


Thirty

by twiniitowers



Category: The Omen (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Christian Bashing, Comfort, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Intimacy, Lesbianism, Loss, Love, Murder, Parents, Satanism, Siblings, Therapy, widower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twiniitowers/pseuds/twiniitowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien Thorn stands ready to take over Thorn Industries when he reaches the age of twenty-five.  He has no idea that he is Satan’s son and in fact the Antichrist; instead, his world is delightfully altered with the arrival of his niece, and Mark’s new daughter, Millicent Mary.  However, a series of strange events occur to change the Thorn family dynamics.  Will it bring them closer together or destroy them forever?</p><p>JoanMilton helped from Chapters 1-8 only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Angel is Born

_...it’s a girl..._ ****

****

****

**September 9, 1994  
** **Friday  
** **Chicago, IL**  
**Thorn Industries**

********

************ ** **

The phone rang in Damien Thorn’s office. The private line whose number was known to only a select few. 

“Damien Thorn.” 

“Now.” 

For a second, Damien was about to ask Mark what he meant, until…“Holy shit! Now!?” 

“Yes, now, ya goof. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” 

“Are you ready?” 

“Not even remotely. My only happy thought in all of this is that one day, you are going to be the one who’s going to be kept up all night by someone calling you daddy, while I’ll be in my bed...laughing my ass off.” 

“Mark, Mark, Mark. I already have been kept up all night by _many_ someones calling me daddy.” 

“I really didn’t need to know that.” Mark heard sirens. “That’s the ambulance. Damien?” 

“Yeah?” There was heavy silence from Mark’s end. 

“I wish dad could have hung in a little longer. He’d be so happy right now.” 

“He’d be beside himself right now.” The last time Damien had been in a hospital was seeing Richard after he had passed away. He’d have been a grandfather for the first time and he would have spoiled the child rotten, something he had never done with either him or Mark. “If you make me cry, you’re out of my will.” 

“We’ll meet you there. I love you.” 

“I love you, ya goof. I’m leaving right now.” 

Damien hung up and then called Paul and told him he was leaving; he would drive himself over to the hospital and as he got into the car, a huge grin sat on his face. He knew Mark was going to be a great dad, he had certainly put in the effort before hand. Going to Lamaze classes and buying sound machines so that baby could hear the ocean and forest noises. As a high-school English teacher, Mark had read to his daughter every play by Shakespeare, and Damien and Maureen’s parents joked that her first words would be ‘to be or not to be.’ He read Plato and Aristotle to the her and when Mark was at work, Maureen had read the more typical age appropriate materials to their daughter. 

Damien was surprised by how much he was anticipating being an uncle and getting to introduce her to things that he liked to do when he was younger, like taking her to the winter/summer house in Wisconsin. And while he knew Mark would freak out, Damien was already planning birthday trips to Florida for a private birthday party or two for his niece and her friends at Disney World. He had fussed over, more so than either Mark or Maureen, the preparation of Mark’s old room, making sure it was beyond perfect for the newest addition to the Thorn family.

Mark had been the one to insist on staying in Chicago during the final weeks of Maureen's pregnancy. He couldn't imagine having the baby born anywhere else other than the hospital in which he had been born; thankfully, Maureen had agreed. 

As he pulled into one of the parking spaces of St. Luke’s Hospital, he felt a pang of grief; he, like Mark, wished that Richard could be here. And with that thought, Damien made his way into the hospital.

Once inside, he found Maureen’s parents in the waiting room. They were the hugging type, so they embraced Damien the second they saw him. 

“Can you believe it?” 

Elizabeth, Maureen’s mother, didn’t want to let him go. 

“Nine months. Where did the time go?” 

“I’m sure Maureen felt like it went on long enough.” Damien gave her a pat on the back and pulled away from the Happy Hugger. 

“Don’t worry, it won’t be too long until she misses being pregnant and wants another one; that’s how we ended up with Maureen’s sister Claire.” He gave his wife a nudge. 

“There he is!” 

Damien turned and Mark was standing there in scrubs. 

“How do I look?” 

“You should have been a doctor.” Damien would have slapped him on the back, but both of Maureen’s parents were hugging him. 

“Okay, I’m going in; wish us luck.” 

Maureen’s parents let him go and Damien gave him a hug and a slap on the back. “You got this.” 

“Thanks. See you all soon.” 

Damien watched as Mark was lead into the delivery room. And the only thing all three of them could do was wait...

**...666…**

It was two hours later and Mark came out, his cap in his hand and a confused expression on his face.

“So?” Damien had spoken, but Maureen’s parents got to him first. 

“My daughter is doing just fine.” He sounded more confused than excited. 

Everyone hugged Mark and offered him their well wishes. 

“Welcome, Millicent Mary Thorn. Congrats, father.” Damien handed Mark a very expensive Cuban cigar.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Elizabeth kissed his cheek. 

“There’s some problem...they wouldn’t let me stay.” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

Elizabeth was at Mark’s arm, pulling him to a chair and then, the air seemed to go out of the room as Damien spotted the doctor, his cap in his hands. It was obvious he had changed, but Damien noticed the spatters of blood on the doctor’s booties.

“Mr. Thorn?” 

Mark stood and Damien was at his side. 

“I’m so sorry. There was some postpartum bleeding...a hemorrhage. There wasn’t anything else we could do. I’m so sorry.”

The nearly empty waiting room was suddenly filled with a sound the likes of which Damien had never heard as Elizabeth Tate fell the floor, wailing.

Her husband and son-in-law went to her and Damien quickly got to the public phone. He called his personal assistant and told him to drive all the way out to Mark’s house and gather all the cards and flowers that had been sent and to have all calls to Mark’s house forwarded to an answering service. He also called Paul to tell him what happened and that he wouldn’t be in for the next few days. Paul told him to take all the time that he needed to give his condolences to Mark and to Maureen’s family. 

When Damien hung up and turned around, he discovered that Mark and his in-laws were no longer there; instead there was a nurse. 

“If you want to see Mark, come this way.” 

Damien followed the woman. Never in his whole life did he feel as out of place as he did right now. He was a man of action who always knew what to do and what to say in any and all situations. He had no fucking clue what he was going to say to his cousin, no his brother, who had just lost his wife in childbirth.

“In here.” She stood in front of the closed door.

“Thank you. Can you please have all gifts from Mrs. Thorn’s room removed?”

“Of course.” 

She gave him a weak smile and left so he and Mark could have some privacy.

Damien put his hand on the knob and turned it before he was ready, but he went in.

Mark was sitting in a chair, a cup of water on the floor at his feet. He head was in his hands and he was staring down at the floor; he still hadn’t removed his scrubs. Damien took a chair and moved it so that he was sitting in front of him. 

There was silence. Damien couldn’t think of anything to say. Words were meaningless things right now with less consistency than the air.

How long they sat, he didn’t know, but it was Mark who spoke first.

“I haven’t even held her yet.”

“You will.”

“I don’t want to.” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” 

Mark looked at him. Damien had never seen him in so much pain; he would have taken it all away from him if he could.

“No. You don’t. You’re a good father, Mark, no make that a great one. We’ll get through this like we get through everything… _together._ ”

“I just want to die. Please let me die.” His voice shook.

“You don’t get to do that.” Damien got up and left the room and when he came back a few minutes later, he was carrying a little pink bundle. “This is your daughter, Mark. You have to be strong for her. You’ll move in with me for a for as long as you want, and we’ll get through this...one second at a time if we have to.”

Damien took his seat again and held his niece. Mark made no move to take his daughter, he just sat there. But Damien would sit with him all night, if that’s what it took.

“How can I hold my daughter? Her mother should have held her first, but...they took the baby away. How can I hold my daughter when her own mother never held her?” 

“Then you’ll have to hold her for the both of you.” 

And Damien waited, but eventually, arms came up and Millicent Mary Thorn was sleeping away peacefully in her father’s arms, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had just befallen her family. 

“I can’t do this.” 

His voice was a harsh whisper barely containing all the grief and sadness that was in him. 

“You can’t, but _we can._ ” 

Damien leaned over and hugged Mark with the baby in the middle and Mark began shaking and then sobbing.

It was some time before Mark came to his senses. Damien got up, grabbed a box of tissues from the desk and handed them to Mark, who quickly cleaned himself up.

He looked down at his sleeping daughter and smiled. “Hello, Millicent Mary. I’m your father, Mark. And this is your uncle, Damien.”

“Hello, beautiful.” Damien kissed her forehead.

“I’m a father.” 

“Yes you are, and a damned good one.”

“Shit...Elizabeth and Doug...she’s a wreck. Someone’s going to have to call Claire and tell her.”

“We’ll stay here and do what needs to be done.”

“I need to see Maureen. I need to say goodbye.” 

“Then you will do that. You’ll get to see her, I don’t give a fuck what the procedure is.” The door was open by a nurse who was waiting to take the baby. “I think you have to give Millicent back.”

“Now I don’t want to ever let her go.” 

“She’ll be in the nursery, on display for everyone to see the world’s most beautiful girl.” 

“She takes after her mother.” Mark kissed his daughter and handed her to the nurse.

“Once we get everything taken care of, we’ll go see her again.”

“Damien, you saved my life today.”

“I think your daughter was the one who did that. But, you’re stronger than you know, Mark Thorn.”

Mark drew in a few shaky breaths. “Okay, let’s do this.”

And Damien held the door open for his cousin and together, they went off to do what needed to be taken care of.

**...666…**

**A Week Later**  
 **Thorn Manor**

Millicent Mary Thorn spent the first week of her life at St. Luke’s Hospital as a precautionary measure and once the doctors were sure that she was as healthy as the proverbial horse, Mark, who was too nervous to drive, took his daughter home. Damien had driven them and if it had been anyone else barking orders and telling him to slow down at least a hundred times, he would have punched them in the face.

Once at home, Mark carried his daughter up the stairs and opened the door to what used to be his old room.

“Welcome to your home away from home, Millie. This used to be my room when I was little just like you.”

Of course, under Damien’s strict directives, the room had been completely transformed. The walls were a delicate lavender and the carpet was light pink. There was a white dresser, upon which was a baby monitor and was full of clothing and a change table filled with diapers, wipes and talcum powder. A white shelf that would someday hold books now held teddy bears and other stuffed animals. The walls contained a menagerie of pink, cloth animals and balloons.

Mark put his daughter in the crib and wound up the mobile that played “Brahms’ Lullaby.” 

“There’s one more thing.” Damien went to the dresser, took out something and handed it to Mark; it was a picture of Maureen. “I wasn’t sure if it was too soon to have this in here.”

Mark put the picture on the dresser. “It’ll be the first thing she sees when she gets up. I’ll tell her everyday about her mother. How kind she was, how beautiful, how special.”

“You can stay as long as you need too until you feel ready to go home. But this is her room, _for always._ ”

“I don’t even know what to say about all of your help.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

“I’m going to sit up here and stay with Millicent, if you don’t mind.”

Damien watched as Mark sat in the rocker. “Of course not. I’ll be in my study whenever you want to come down. We’ll eat something and then...we’ll play it by ear.” 

“I know how much _you_ love that.”

Damien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. It’ll be great practice for when I become a dad one day. You come downstairs when you’re ready.” 

Mark watched as Damien shut the door. Millie whimpered and he got up to check on her. 

He looked down at her and suddenly, he was terrified. 

“Holy shit, I’m a father.” And if he hadn’t been holding on to the side of the crib, he’d have fallen over. With Maureen, he’d been thinking of her and missing her constantly, but now...it seemed he had to push his grief over because he had a tiny life to take care of. He didn’t know if he could do it, there was so much to worry about...first solid food, first steps, first day of school...what was he going to do when she got older and needed her mother? 

_Just remember what Damien said, one second at a time if we have to_. He reached down and picked his daughter up; she had gone back to sleep. 

“You’re perfect, Millie. Do you know that? And a Godsend.” _I’d be dead right now without you._ He took her back with him to the window and began pointing out childhood objects and sites to her, though it was useless for many reasons, not the least of which being she was sound asleep.

He yawned and his stomach grumbled. He’d eat something with Damien, if he hadn’t eaten already, and then head off to sleep himself. He’d stay in his father’s room, this way he’d be close to Millie. 

He put her back in her crib and gave her a loving smile. “Goodnight, Millicent Mary Thorn. You may not know it right now, but your mother is with you, watching you from Heaven. She’ll always be with you, just like I’ll always be with you.” He kissed his fingertips and then put them on her forehead. 

Before he left, he made sure the baby monitor was on and then went to the door. Part of him wanted to sleep up here with her, but he’d try sleeping on his own before he caved in to getting one of the cots in here and sleeping beside his daughter’s crib.

“Goodnight, my angel.” 

Mark gave her a last look and then after leaving the door open and turning off the hallway light, he went downstairs to find Damien.


	2. The Days That Followed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mark needs him, Damien is always there.

**Thorn Manor  
AFTER THE FUNERAL:**

Mark lay in bed, curled up under the blankets. Millie was sleeping beside him in her bassinet. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, so during the night, she’d sleep in his room and take her naps in the crib in hers. He burrowed down deeper under the covers when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

“I just wondering if you feel like eating your dinner?” Damien came in and went to see Millie.

“Not right now.”

“How are you doing?”

“I just buried my wife today. I thought I’d be an old man when that happened, or maybe she’d be the one to bury me. I just don’t know what I’m going to without her. It’s so _wrong_ that Millie has to grow up without her mother.”

“We’ll get through it. And I know that you’re not thinking that far ahead, but Richard found Ann after your mother died.”

“And left right after he passed.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be marrying a trophy wife.” Damien leaned down and gave Millie a kiss. “If you feel like warming up your dinner later, you do that.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“If you want to talk, or if you just need me, you come find me.” Damien was in the hall.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Mark watched as Damien shut the door behind him and Mark felt a tiny bit better. He knew he could get through it all as long as Damien was by his side.

 

 

 

**...666…**

**A MONTH LATER:**

It was just after midnight when Damien decided to go downstairs for a cup of tea. On the way, he stopped in Mark’s room to check in on Millicent.

He quietly opened the door and went to her bassinet; she was sound asleep. He smiled at her; she looked so content and at peace, but she was normally like that...quiet, even during the night. She usually just cried once for a feeding or changing and then she was back to peacefully sleeping. He was going to hate it when she and Mark left; he liked having his family together in one house. He kissed his fingertips and then placed them on Millie’s forehead and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, he found Mark sitting on a stool at the counter writing notes on a yellow legal pad.

“How come you can’t sleep?”

Mark jumped. “Jesus. Damien, you scared me. I wanted to get this done.” He held up a yellow tablet. “Before the morning when Millie wakes up.”

Damien put on the kettle. He went to the cupboard with the mugs and retrieved the one that had the Yale logo across the front. He dropped two Earl Grey tea bags into the teapot and leaned against the kitchen counter. “And what would _this_ be?”

“Getting my school plans together. I _need_ to get back to work. I also have to finalize the nannies for Millie.”

“That settles it, we’re going to lunch tomorrow.”

Mark gaped at the suggestion. “I cannot leave the baby.”

“Mark, I’m not asking you to abandon Millie. You haven’t done anything for yourself since she was born. We’ll go to the country club and don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll have one of my staff watch her, they all love the baby.”

Mark was tempted by the idea, but immediately, guilt took ahold of him.

The kettle whistled and Damien poured the water into the teapot and waited for it to steep. “It’s lunch. We’ll be gone for two hours and I’ll have my pager with me so if anything happens, someone can call.”

“Which will be too late by then.”

He poured himself a cup and left the rest in case Mark wanted some. He took his tea black, so there was no need to add anything else. “That was on me...nothing is going to happen. She’ll be sleeping while we’re gone. Think on it and I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep. Night Mark.”

“Goodnight.”

He picked up his pen, but paused. He hadn’t really left the house since Millicent was born. Lunch at the country club sounded great. But every time he imagined himself sitting and eating lunch with Damien, he also imagined Damien’s beeper going off and him going to call home...and then back to their table screaming that the house was on fire.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that over the past month, Damien had saved his life, so if he wanted them to go to the club for lunch, then he would do his best to leave Millie for two hours to enjoy some time with his cousin

Mark felt a little better and returned to writing his notes.

 

 

 

**666**

**11:30AM**

Damien had had a wonderful start to the day.

Breakfast was on the table when it was supposed to be...and hot, which sometimes proved to be a novel idea since Richard had died. He was still getting used to managing a household on his own and Monica Sawyer, the head cook, and one of the first of the help whom Richard had hired, just wasn’t up to challenge of being in charge of the entire staff and doing what was necessary to run the house. She may have graduated from the New England Culinary Institute, but her prowess started and ended with cooking.

Damien had wanted to bring in someone who was new and, quite frankly, someone picked by him and not by his uncle, to oversee the household; he had found her in Deana Patterson. She was only twenty-one, but she had come with glowing recommendations from someone at work and they hadn’t been lying.

He had hired her before Millie was born.

What a difference. The food was on the table when it was supposed to be and the other staff weren’t coming to him night and day, trying to get him to micromanage every little problem that popped up.

He supported her decision in having the staff write daily reports for her, which she then edited as a brief that came to him on a weekly basis. He could think of no better person to watch his niece while they were out.

“Look who wants to say hello,” Damien said while Deana’s back was to him.

She had been sorting through the magazines to pitch whatever was old, when Damien had addressed her.

“Good morning, Mr. Thorn.” She turned around to see him carrying his niece, who was wrapped in a pink blanket. “Hello, cutie.”

A bright smile sat on Deana’s face...Damien also couldn’t help but notice that with her blonde hair and green eyes, she was an absolute knock-out.

“Would you like to hold her?”

She and the rest of the staff all took turns taking care of the baby whenever Damien or Mark were doing something else, but this was the first time that he asked if someone wanted to actually hold Millicent for the sole purpose of getting to know her and not tend to the baby's needs.

“Of course, I would, Mr. Thorn.”

Damien placed the baby in Deana’s arms. “Just watch her head.”

“Are you going into the office today?”

“No. I’m taking Mark out for a much needed break, so would you be so kind as to care for Millicent while we’re both gone?”

“I’ll watch her like she was my own.”

“Thank you, Deana. Why don’t you take Millie upstairs and put her down for a nap. This way, I can get Mark out of the house without him having to make a simple goodbye into an hour long production.”

She laughed. “He’s a nervous father leaving his daughter for the first time...just wait until you have kids.”

“Understood.” Damien kissed the baby on her forehead and as he watched Deana took Millie upstairs… _she looks as good going as she does coming_...he smiled and went off to find his cousin.

 

 

 

**666**

“...but Damien, I-I didn’t even say goodbye to Millie….” Worry dripped from every word that left his mouth.

Damien used his body to block Mark from going upstairs. “We’re going out for lunch in downtown Chicago, not the other side of the world. Millicent will still be here when we return. Besides, Deana put her down for her nap, you don’t want to be the one to wake her? Do you?”

They were lucky. Millie was such good baby and Mark hoped she wasn’t going to go from serene to meltdown mode when the so-called ‘terrible two’s’ came around. But Damien had a point. He was going to go back to work and Millie would have to get to used to being cared for by nannies until she went off to preschool.

“No, I guess not.” He looked up the stairs, hoping his daughter was sleeping peacefully. He didn’t have the heart to tell Damien that he wanted this lunch over with as soon as possible so he could be back here with his daughter. He wasn’t a parent yet, he didn’t understand the constant worry.

“Good.” Damien threw Mark’s jacket at him, which he caught with one hand. “Let’s get going. The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll see your daughter again.” Damien smiled.

And with a long last look at the stairs, Mark let Damien drag him out the front door.

 

 

 

**666**

Monica seethed as she took the baby bottle, turned it upside down to let some drops fall onto her wrist; it was the correct temperature. There was no way she was going to use the thermometer that Ms.-Deana-I’m-so-much-better-than-everyone-else-because-I-went-to-university  
Patterson insisted that she used. She had been working for the Thorns when _Ms._ Patterson was still in junior high, and had been taking care of babies before she had been born. She should have been put in charge of the household and if Richard Thorn, God bless his soul, were still alive, that’s what would have happened.

She was supposed to have the spacious live in quarters inside the house. She tried to remain even-keeled but that there was something about this new woman that was just unlikeable.

Monica enjoyed working for Damien and knew that she got paid better than others in her position, so for now, she’d keep her dislike of Deana to herself and so, like she had done for the past month, she slapped a smile on her face and went up the Millicent’s room to give the bottle to Deana.

She found Deana in the rocking chair smiling down at the baby...she wouldn’t put it past _the girl_ to have designs on Mark, she certainly had cozied-up to the baby during the past month...or Damien, for that matter. She knew the type. Her mother had been the housekeeper for the Winslow’s and had told her how Mr. Winslow’s affair with the nanny had ruined the family.

“And did you use the thermometer like I asked you to, Monica?”

“Yes, Ms. Patterson.” Monica was nearly forty-six years old. Did she really have to address this upstart by a title; who did think she was?

Deana narrowed her eyes to slits and looked up at her. “We both know that’s a lie. Once more, Monica.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin tube which contained a thermometer and handed it to the older woman. “Once more and you’re going to wish the worst thing that happened to you was you got fired. Am I clear?” Deana was leaving nothing to chance where a baby was concerned.

“Yes, Ms. Patterson.” She had unscrewed the lid of the bottle and now put the business end of the thermometer into the formula and waited until it displayed the temperature.

“Seventy-two point _six._ ” She handed the bottle to Deana.

“Good. Now you can go.”

“Thank-you, Ms. Patterson.”

She let out an involuntary shiver; there was something about that woman that was downright scary. She went off to finish her preparations for the evening meal.

If it had been anyone else but Monica, she wouldn’t have asked for the thermometer. But the woman had been unprofessional to her from the first day that she had walked through the door and if she wanted to be a bitch, Deana smirked, then she would be a bitch as well. She turned her attention back to the baby and as if knowing that is was time for her to eat, Millie fully opened up her eyes and took the bottle.

“Hello, Beautiful.” She kissed her forehead. “You’re such a sweetheart, do you know that? Your father will be home very soon, but while he’s out, I get to spend some time with you.” And she smiled as Millicent sucked back her bottle.

_Please Satan watch over this precious girl. While I don’t know what you have planned, it will be your will and please lead Damien closer to his truth._

And Deana stroked the baby’s tiny cheek with her index finger as Millicent looked up at her with her beautiful, wide blue eyes.

 

 

 

**666**

**Country Club**

“That’s the fifth time she’s come to ask _you_ if _you_ want more water.” Mark took a drink of his coffee.

“Yes I know.” Damien grinned at his cousin and took a drink of his whisky.

“Am I going to have to stop on the way home to get some earplugs?”

“I think you’re safe for tonight. However, on Saturday, I have a date with Carla Greene.”

“The top aide to the Mayor?” Mark stirred more sugar into his coffee. He didn’t want to have any alcohol in the daytime. You’d think he was a nursing mother, but Mark wanted to do everything right since he was the only parent Millie had.

“She’s in charge of the new Impressionist Exhibit at the Chicago Metropolitan Musuem of Art. I’ll be her escort for the evening...you might need some earplugs then.”

“I also couldn’t help but notice Deana.” Mark was trying to consume his lunch as fast as possible without looking like he was trying to get through their lunch date at warp speed...or without choking.

“You’d have to be blind not to notice Deana, but I’ve seen too many households in trouble when the boss shags the head of the staff. Once I turn twenty-five and take over Thorn, I don’t want the hassle of disgruntled staff at home and at the office.”

Damien put a forkful steak in his mouth and then checked his watch. “And you’re mine for another fifty-minutes, so sit back, relax, order dessert and have another coffee, because we aren’t leaving until the alarm on my watch goes off.”

And as best he could, he enjoyed their time together until it was time to get the bill.

“I’ll pay.” Mark put his hand inside his jacket to get his wallet.

“The check has already been taken care of.”

“Damien, I want to pay you back for putting up with me and Millie for the past month.”

“I’ve had you back in the house for that month, it’s me who should be thanking you. I’ve enjoyed having you and my niece around, so it’s all good.”

Mark was up and putting on his jacket and so was Damien, but not before the waitress who kept coming to the table with her water jug bumped into Damien.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Thorn.”

“No, problem...Linda.”

She batted her eyes at him and then continued on to the next table.

“What was that about?” Mark stood beside Damien, who, with a smirk on his face, lifted his right hand and showed him a folded up piece of paper.

“Shit. Does it ever stop with you?”

“I have no idea, what you mean, Mark.”

“Yeah, yeah, modesty isn’t one of your strong suits, Damien.”

“I cannot help it if people find me attractive. Come on, let’s get you home before you explode.”

Mark needed no second prompting to get out to the parking lot. He knew Millie was fine, but he wouldn’t be completely happy until could see her, living and breathing, with his own eyes...

Once they returned home, Mark removed neither his shoes nor jacket. Instead, he ran up the stairs to Millie’s room, where he found her safe and sound and fast asleep in her crib. He Mark let out a huge sigh of relief.

“I hope that you enjoyed lunch, Mr. Thorn.” Deana said.

“I did, thank-you. I hope she was no trouble for you.”

“She was no trouble at all. Millie woke up to take her bottle and then went right back to sleep.”

“Thanks for watching her.”

“Trust me when I tell you that it was my pleasure.”

Mark wanted to hold his daughter, but didn’t want to disturb her peaceful sleep. He just caressed her cheek with the side of his hand. “I love you, Silly Milly, for always.”

He made sure the baby monitor was turned on and then went to find Damien.

 

 

 

**666**

**One Week Later**

Mark closed trunk lid on his car. It was time for him and Millie to start their lives together in their own home.

“Is that it?” Damien asked.

“I think so. Besides, Millie and I will be coming by for lots of visits and of course our monthly dinner. We’ll be here so much, you’ll absolutely be sick of the two of us.”

“That won’t ever happen.”

“Damien before we go inside and get the baby...I just want to tell you how much I appreciate everything you have done for me and Millie. I love you…”

Damien gave his cousin a few slaps on the back. “I love you too, ya goof. Come on, let’s get your daughter.”

Mark and Damien didn’t get very far when they heard the baby’s cries from the foyer.

“What’s wrong with Millie?” Panic filled Mark’s insides.

Deana came out holding the baby and gently placed her in Mark’s arms. “I don’t know what happened, Mr. Thorn.” Deana looked up at him. “Millie was content, like she usually is, and then she just started crying for no apparent reason.”

The baby wasn’t sick, her belly was full, and her diaper was currently clean, but something was clearly troubling the child.

“It’s okay, Silly Milly, Daddy’s here…” Mark rubbed her back to try to get her to calm down.

How was he going to drive fifty miles to Geneva with Millie screaming the car seat? Mark pulled out a pink pacifier out of his jacket pocket, which Damien quickly intercepted.

“No, that goes in the garbage. Here let me try.”

Mark gave Millie to Damien.

“What has you so upset, Millie? You’re supposed to go home with your Daddy today.” He bounced her in his arms and Mark didn’t know whether to be grateful or upset that Millie’s harsh cries turned to a soft whimper. “Come on, your chariot awaits, my lady. Say goodbye to Miss Deana.”

“Goodbye, Sweetie.” She kissed the girl’s forehead. Deana was going to miss having little Millie around, then she watched Damien take the lead, carrying the baby and Mark following.

Damien put a now sleeping Millie in her carseat. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“What can I say, I have a way with the ladies.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I love you, little one.” He stood up.

“Are you going to be okay?” Mark eyed his cousin.

“So long as you stick to the plan about coming to visit me so much that I’ll be sick of seeing you guys, I’ll be fine.”

“This is it I guess.” Mark hugged his cousin.

Damien slapped Mark on the back. “You take care and if you need anything, and I mean anything, day or night, don’t you dare not call me, do you understand?”

“Yes.” He gave Damien a few hearty thumps on his back back and then pulled away.

“And you call me the second you get home.” Damien hoped he didn’t sound too much like a mother hen.

“I will.” Mark got into the car. If he waited any longer, he was going to unpack his things and move right back in.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, ya goof.” Mark put the key in the ignition and turned it and started out of the driveway, watching Damien recede in the rearview mirror until he was gone and Mark was out out of the driveway; now they were on the road and headed back home.

He smiled at his daughter as he saw her reflection from the rearview mirror, sleeping away without a care in the world.

There was no doubt in his mind that it be would be tough in the beginning, but he had it better than some other single parents who might be in the same situation...he had money, a steady job, and family, both Damien and Maureen’s family as well.

He and Millicent would be all right. It was going to be the both of them against the world and he knew deep in his heart and soul that they would be just fine.

**A few hours later:**

Damien was amazed at how quiet the house was. It wasn’t just the fact that Deana kept the staff doing their jobs so the house ran like clockwork, but there was no Mark and Millie. He was missing them already, and they had only been gone for a few hours. Mark did keep his promise and had called him the second he came home. He sounded all right and Millie wasn’t crying. Yet, something felt _off_.

He wanted to respect Mark’s need for space, but when he saw one of Millie’s blankets left in his study, he stopped dictating office notes into the tape recorder. He pressed the button on the phone for the kitchen extension.

“Yes, Mr. Thorn?”

“Monica, I am not going to be home for dinner.” Then Damien was struck with an idea. “But you can do me a favor...”

 

 

 

**666**

**Mark’s House  
**  
Geneva, IL

Mark did well as long as he kept moving. Damien had had his mail held at the post office and he would go through the pile once he picked it up, though none of it included bills since Damien had taken care of those for him. He was grateful for the help, not that he needed the financial assistance, but it was nice to have one less thing to worry about.

Millicent had woken up only to take her bottle. Mark found himself wanting her to be fussy and need tending to. It was only when Mark had time to sit down and see Maureen’s belongings around him... her favorite college blanket that they liked to snuggle in on the sofa to watch TV, a paperback that she was reading, an unfinished jigsaw puzzle that they were both working on, and their wedding picture that was on the end table...that he felt like he would break down and cry.

Mark suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on him...he had been wrong...it was all too much. He shouldn’t have left Damien so soon and then…the doorbell rang...it couldn’t be.

He got up and went to the door, unlocked and opened it and sure enough, standing there larger than life, was his cousin, suitcase in one hand, a tote in the other.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything yet?”

Mark could only shake his head.

“Well, then just call me the Magic Chef.”

Mark followed Damien to the kitchen and could do nothing but watch as his cousin began unpacking the tote full of food; food that was still warm judging from the condensation on the sides of the glass containers. Damien put food on two plates and put the first one in the microwave. Mark didn’t know where to start.

Damien smiled. “I found one of Millie’s blankets in the study...the one with the moons and stars?”

“That’s where it went to.”

“So I thought I’d deliver it in person.”

Mark knew Damien could have had the blanket couriered over; his cousin was checking up on him. Mark needed Damien and he was there.

The food smelled so good...Monica’s roast beef with mashed potatoes. He was hoping that somewhere, were her strawberry tarts. He looked at his cousin. “I…”

“You don’t have to. It’s my fault for letting you come here alone. The first time back in the house after...we should have come here together.”

“How long will you stay?”

Damien took out Mark’s plate and put in front of him.

“A few days. Longer if you need it. You can go back to work and I’ll interview the nannies. When it comes to the right person looking after _my_ niece...it’s going to take more than a pretty face for her to get the job.”

“And what about your work?”

Damien laughed. “Nice try...you need to stop worrying. Paul can reach me if he needs to. If it’s an emergency, I’ll figure out something.”

Mark was grateful that Damien was always there for him, from bullies in school to helping him with Millie and to making sure he took care of himself. “There wouldn’t happen to be some strawberry tarts in there, would there?”

Damien reached into the tote and brought out one tin and then another.

“There goes my girlish figure.”

“Let’s eat while the food is hot.”

They brought their plates to the kitchen table and ate, not really talking much. Once he started eating, Mark began to feel the tiredness of everything catch up to him, but he would stay awake long enough for some tea and strawberry tarts.

It was nearly eight when the dishes were washed, dried and put away and the rest of the food was put in the fridge.

“Where do you keep your booze?”

“In that tall cupboard next to the fridge. Why?”

“I’m making you a hot toddy.” He opened the fridge. “Damn it, no ginger ale...and then you are going to bed.”

“Damien…”

“I’ll take care of Millie and that’s final.”

Damien put the drink on a tray and followed Mark upstairs. Mark stopped at the bedroom door. He had tried earlier to put Millie in there rather than the nursery, but, there was the smell of Maureen’s perfume...the smell of her…

“Damien, I can’t.”

“Here take this.” He handed Mark the tray. “Where do you keep your night clothes?”

“The dresser without the mirror.”

“Okay.”

Damien grabbed a pair of pajamas and he found Mark in one of the rooms.

He tossed the pajamas to him and he waited in the hall until Mark had changed.

“Get in bed and start drinking.”

Mark got into bed, picked up his mug and took a good gulp. He could immediately feel the affects of the alcohol.

“If you don’t feel up to it, you won’t go into work tomorrow and that’s Doctor Damien’s orders.”

“I can’t help but wonder how many women have been sent to bed under Doctor Damien’s care.”

“Let’s just say it’s a long patient list.”

“I promise to drink this and then right to sleep.”

“I’m just down the hall. If you need anything, you just give ol’ Doctor Damien a holler."

Mark laughed. “Thanks...and thanks for...everything.”

“You just get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning where I shall attempt to make breakfast. On a scale of one to ten, how crunchy do you like your eggs?”

“If you call Monica now, can she be here by the morning?” Mark was serious.

“I’ll ask Deana if she can recommend someone who cooks. I trust her judgment.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Mark.”

Damien closed the door and went to check on Millie, who was still sleeping. Not surprising, since she had had her dinner not that long ago. He went back to Mark and Maureen’s room to grab the bassinet and the baby monitor to take to the room that he would stay in when, when he was suddenly overcome with sadness.

Maureen had had an infectious laugh and was always the hit at any and every party without needing to be the center of attention. Mark had always been on the shy side and she had helped him come out of himself a bit. She had been good for Mark; he’d miss her.

He went back the nursery and gently picked up her and when he put her in the bassinet, she was still sound asleep. He plugged in the monitor, the other part was in the kitchen, and turned it on. He smiled down at her and then left her to sleep, going downstairs to see if he could find Mark’s nanny notes.

 

 

 

**...666…**

Damien was woken up by Millicent’s fussing. At least with Doctor Damien’s other “patients,” if they woke up hungry in the middle of the night, they could make themselves something to eat.

“Hang on, Millie.” He sat up, his feet off the side of the bed, trying wake up some. He then went out into the hall and turned on the light, which created enough brightness in the room for him to see without blinding the baby. When he got to the bassinet, she was wide awake, her arms and legs moving. He picked her up and he could tell that she also needed changing.

“Still no poopy diaper for your uncle Damien to change. Thank God.” He had brought few diapers, wipes, talcum powder, and the change pad into his room and now put everything on the bed and undid her sleeper, and quickly changed her and put her back into her bassinet. “I’ll be right back with your late night snack, mademoiselle.”

Damien sighed when he found a pacifier on the floor; it must have fallen out of her bassinet. This was going in the trash. Millie needed to learn how to soothe herself and Mark needed to let her do so.

Downstairs, he prepared her bottle and noticed the clock on the stove; it was after one in the morning. He made sure that the formula wasn’t too hot and then went back upstairs. She was still awake and he picked her up, brought her to one of the arm chairs that were in the room and gave her her bottle, which she sucked back like she hadn’t eaten in days.

Twenty-five minutes later, the pair of them were fighting tiredness. Her bottle was almost empty and he put her over his shoulder to burp her and prayed that she wouldn’t spit up. He was patting her back for a few minutes when she belched loudly in Damien’s ear.

“Yep, you’re your daddy’s girl.” He placed her in her bassinet on her back and then pulled her sheet up and he watched her eyes close and soon she was sound asleep again.

“Now it’s time for your uncle Damien to try to get back to sleep.”

He went out in the hall and shut off the light. He could hear Mark snoring, a good night’s sleep would do him a world of good, and then he slipped back into bed and like his niece, it didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep.


	3. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien's niece thinks Damien is so special. He'll see.

**FIVE YEARS LATER**  
**December 24, 1999**  
**Friday**  
**Thorn Manor**

Damien looked out the window in his study and as the Christmas Eve snow started to fall, the pull in Damien’s body started to get stronger. He didn’t know where it was coming from. It was the same pull, the same strange feeling, that would leave a pit in his stomach, and how unsatisfactory these feelings were that once mattered to him, didn’t seem to anymore. There was something about Christmas and Easter that in the past few years seemed to bother Damien Thorn; it never used to be that way. He used to love Christmas and all its traditions. 

Richard always took two weeks off of work to spend time with Ann and him and Mark. They’d buy two trees. The large one would sit in the main foyer, while he and Mark would be given their own tree to decorate how they saw fit. 

They’d spend the week shopping and going to parties and on December 23rd, they’d put on their ugliest Christmas sweaters, listen to Christmas carols, drink eggnog and decorate the large tree. And on Christmas Eve, they’d stay up late watching Christmas movies until Uncle Richard would say that he swore he heard the sound of bells from the roof. 

Ann would remind them that they had to go bed, or Santa wouldn’t arrive and then he and Mark would take off to their rooms, or room if they were sleeping together, and they would fight their tiredness by guessing what their presents would be. Christmas Day would be spent in a haze, playing with all the new things they got and gorging themselves on enough food to feed a large army. 

Now, he left all the decorating to the staff because the older Damien got, the less he wanted to take part in such activities. The only person who would enjoy any of this effort would be Millicent. 

But it wasn’t only this time of year. Most days, his life was a void, with each passing year feeling more suffocating than the one before it. But, he didn’t know how to fix it, which surprised him, because he was a man of action and could get the, so-called by everyone else, “impossible” things done.

He let out a hard exhalation of breath. Whatever it was that was going on, he had better figure it out soon because he was fed up with feeling like this. 

"Mr. Thorn?" 

Damien smiled and paused before turning around. He knew whom he’d find, but he wanted to delay the moment and build the anticipation of seeing her. He finally turned and she was standing by the door. She had recently begun wearing her hair in a French braid on a regular basis after she and the other staff had had their pictures taken for the Thorn staff portfolio. He was glad. He thought she looked elegant with her hair done that way. 

"There is someone here to see you." She winked at him. 

“Thank you, Deana. That will be all.” 

As he left his study to go to the family room the click-clack of patent leather shoes got louder. He was filled with a warmth that was normally missing from his life and despite his dismal mood, there were two people on Earth who would always make him feel better. It would be nice to have Thorn manor bustling with activity, at least for a little while, like it was when she was born. 

"Uncle Damien!" 

He held out his arms as Millicent came at him and she jumped into his arms and he scooped her up hugged her. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Miss Millicent Mary, Quite Contrary. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” He gave her right pigtail a pull, kissed her forehead and then put her down. 

She giggled. “It’s Christmas, silly. Look. I’m wearing my new dress. Don’t I look pretty?” She put her arms out and spun around. “I picked it out all by myself.”

It was red and green and in reality, the colors were a bit bright. He thought that went out of fashion in the ‘80s, but he would never want to ever hurt her feelings. 

“You, my dear, have very good taste. Where’s your father?”

"Right here, ya goof." 

Damien looked up to see Mark and one of the staff carrying bags filled with Christmas presents and the both of them went through to the family room to deposit the presents under the tree. Mark reemerged empty handed.

"And you can't open them until tomorrow, Uncle Damien. That’s cheating." She wagged her index finger at him. 

"I won’t.” Damien smiled and crossed his heart. "Have you been good, Millie?"

"Ask daddy." 

Mark let out a laugh. "Yes, she's been very good. So there should be lots of presents from Santa tomorrow."

Mark didn't want to overcompensate, but he couldn't help it. His little girl had been through so much, never getting to know her own mother, that he couldn't help but spoiling her a wee bit during the holidays. And she _was_ a good girl, she deserved to be spoiled. 

After Richard had died from cancer seven years ago and after that Ann had moved to Miami where the Thorn's had a condo. She had not contacted either of them since she left. It didn't bother Mark at all; as he really wasn't all that close to his stepmother as she always seemed to favor Damien when they were growing up. 

Millicent let out a yawn. 

"I think someone is tired." Damien smiled. 

"She was too excited during the car ride to nap earlier." 

"Will you tuck me into bed, Uncle Damien, and read me a story? My books are in my suitcase."

"Sure, Millie. Do you mind, Mark?"

"Of course not.” He kissed her cheek as she walked past him to the stairs. “Rest well, Silly Milly."

**...666...**

Damien had read about mermaids for about five times before little Millie Thorn turned on her side, yawning into her pillow. 

"I love you, Miss Mary.” He kissed her on one of her round, rosy cheeks. 

"I love you too, Uncle Damien Do you know that you’re _special_?” 

“You’re special as well...you’re my favorite niece.” 

“I’m your only niece. You are _so, special._ You’ll see.” 

She yawned again and gradually her eyes got too heavy to keep open and soon she was asleep. 

Even though he was overjoyed with their arrival, there was always a little sadness mixed in whenever he saw them. Mark and Damien tried to see each other twice a month for a family dinner, but it didn't always happen due to their work schedules.

They were always in contact by all the modern means, but it just wasn't the same as an in person visit. He was always grateful when Millie spent the night whenever Mark needed a babysitter, or if he just wanted to spend time with his niece. 

He stroked her light brown hair. Everytime she came to visit, Damien was struck by how much he looked forward to eventually having children of his own, though, so far, he wasn’t keen on the prospect of marriage, although there were plenty of women who would jump at the chance to be Mrs. Damien Thorn. 

He wasn't gay, even though, there were times when he did have sex with men on occasion. He thought it’d be different with male companionship but it wasn’t. He still felt empty afterwards, despite being labeled by the media as the one of the World’s Most Eligible Bachelors. 

He gave Millie a kiss on the cheek and then went downstairs to join his cousin and he found Mark in the family room, putting something large behind his chair.

“Do you mean to tell me that there is no Santa Claus? I am truly shocked.” 

“Wise ass.” Mark replied. 

“I wish we saw each other more often….” Damien switched the order of the candles that were on side table next to his favorite blue leather chair. 

“I know, same here. Maybe when I’m off for the summer we can take Millie to the amusement park.” 

“I’d like that.” Damien didn’t want to point out that they could rent out the park for the day, but then again it would be more fun for Millie to partake in the kiddie rides with other children there. 

Mark stood up. “I’m going to the kitchen. Do you want anything?” 

“Not at the moment. Are you okay?” 

Every year, Damien asked him this. Mark loved his cousin and his daughter more than the world, but he wasn’t going to crack just because it was the holidays. He had to be strong for his daughter. He remembered Richard being a pillar of strength when his biological mother, Mary, passed away. However, if it weren't for his cousin and his daughter, Mark would have detested the holidays with a passion.

“I’m fine, honest.” Mark gave his own yawn. “I think Millie isn’t the only one who needs a nap.” 

It did puzzle Mark, however, that when Millie had turned four, she had suddenly stopped asking questions about her mother, but he didn’t want to burden Damien with it. Maybe, it was just a phase she was going through. Before the holiday break he had talked to his colleague, the psychology instructor who still had a practice, Dr. Neil Hershey about his feelings and he suggested that they come in for an appointment in January. 

“Well, take a nap. I have some stuff to take care of.”

“Hopefully, that stuff includes writing Christmas checks to the staff of this place who have to put up with my bonehead cousin.”

“Possibly.”

“It had better, or Santa’s going to be leaving coal in your stocking. I’ll see you for dinner, or thereabouts.” 

“Have a nice nap, old man.”

“Here’s an early Christmas present from me to you.”

Mark gave him the finger as he made his way upstairs and eventually disappeared around the corner. 

Damien made his way to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and a piece of homemade blueberry strudel and some chocolate chip cookies to take with him into his den to get some Thorn business done before the family sat down for dinner at six o'clock.

**...666...**

Mark was in his room sitting at the desk paying bills when Millie came in.

“Hi, Silly Milly, did you sleep well?” He got up from the desk, got down on one knee and helped her buckle her shoes.

“Yes.”

"Why don't you wash up for dinner and we'll see what your Uncle Damien is up to."

She smiled at her father before running into his bathroom to do as he had asked. 

Damien had signed his name to about twenty documents and thought he was going to develop writer's cramp. He let out a chuckle when he saw a little hand reach for the lone cookie that was left on the dessert plate. 

"I think I see a cookie-snatcher." Damien scooped up his niece and placed her on his lap. 

"Don't tell daddy." 

"It will be our little secret, Millie. You don't want to spoil your dinner though." 

"I won't." 

“May I ask you a question?" It was Damien's belief that most children were smarter than the adults in their lives ever gave them credit for.

She nodded as she chewed her cookie.

"What did you mean earlier about me being _so special?_ "

"You just _are._ " 

"M –" 

Mark peered into the doorway. "Millicent, I didn’t mean for you to bother your uncle when he’s trying to get his work done." 

"She isn't, Mark, and I'm finished. I think Monica found another chicken recipe, but she made something _special for you,_ Millie." As his niece only liked her chicken in breaded nugget form. 

Mark looked at all the neat stacks of papers and folders on Damien's desk and was relieved that this wasn’t his life. He knew he had chosen the right career path. He had his own kind of paperwork to deal with, and had to answer to school board administrators, but it was nothing compared to the weight Damien had on his shoulder's running a global empire such as Thorn. 

"May I help Monica set the table?" Millie requested. 

"I believe the table is already set, but you can still ask her if she would like any other assistance." Damien responded. 

"Okay.” Millicent had asked not only to be helpful, but she was also hoping that Deana would be there as well. She liked her, she was very nice. 

**...666...**

"You know I wouldn’t ‘come down hard on you,’ if you would just do what is required of you in the first place.”

Deana didn’t want to hear any excuses, not the day before the holidays. The staff were told to wear the new uniforms today and Monica, as usual, wasn’t towing the company line. Deana knew the type. Monica thought because she worked here for years that made her exempt from the rules. Deana wished that she could dock her pay, or better yet throw her off a dock, but that was never an option. 

Millie walked in the kitchen before a harried Monica could reply. It had been a long five years working for this woman, and she tried to keep in mind, it was Mr. Thorn, and only Mr. Thorn, who was the real boss. Did she want her to write ‘I will not break your stupid rules’ five hundred times before going to bed tonight? What a tyrant -- and of course, Deana had to be attractive as well. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out why she had been hired. She sighed as she went back to her cooking. 

“Yay! Deana, you’re here!” Millie clapped her hands in delight. 

“Hello, beautiful.” She caught Millicent as she came running into her arms. 

“Hello, Miss Millie. Would you like a snack before dinner?” It was probably against some unwritten rule to offer the child something to munch on before dinner, but Monica did not care. It was the holidays. 

“No...I want to help….” 

“That’s so sweet of you, honey, but, Monica can do that, that’s what she gets paid for. Would you like to draw before dinner?” 

“No, thank you. I’d rather read.” 

“In that case, I have a surprise for you. I bought you some new books that you might enjoy. Would you like to have a look?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“Why don’t we go upstairs and get some of your other books first and you can read them all in my quarters before dinner?” Deana offered. 

“Okay. May I please have a glass of juice while I read?” 

“Sure and Monica will pay us a visit in her new dress.” Deana extended her hand so that Millie could take hers as they walked up the backstairs together. 

“Of course, Ms. Patterson.” It would be a Christmas miracle if that wench would just get fired, but the older woman knew that was never going to happen. She turned the heat down on the stove and prepared to change into her new uniform. 

**...666...**

Damien and Mark were having a glass of wine in study before dinner, when he noticed that Mark had stopped the chain of small talk. 

“Penny for your thoughts, Mark?” 

“I think we can afford more than a penny.” 

“Well, then, a million dollars for your thoughts.” 

Mark didn’t know if he should bother Damien with what might be trivialities, but then again he felt like a hypocrite because he sought out talking to his colleague about Millie’s behavior. 

He read on the Internet about how children grieve and because Millie never knew her mother, it did make sense on a certain level on why she didn’t want to bring up Maureen or her indifference when he brought the subject of her up. She was a normal child. Why bother Damien with problems that most likely weren’t there? 

“It’s alright for now. Let’s go light up the tree so Millie can see it before dinner.” 

That was a diversion tactic if ever there was one. Damien let it go for now. He had the whole visit to get to the bottom of what was bothering his cousin. 

While he and Mark walked towards the dining room they heard a loud crash coming from the family room and went running to investigate the source.

"What in the Hell?" Damien questioned.

"Millie!" 

The golden angel tree topper somehow fell off the tree and destroyed the miniature nativity scene below. Millie was nowhere to be found. 

“Thank God she wasn’t in here. What the fu--” Out of habit, he censored himself as he bent down to pick up the decorations that had fallen. 

Damien quickly turned around and saw his niece standing in the doorway who had apparently stopped her reading and wandered into the living room, book in hand, to see what the loud noise coming from the living room was. 

The little girl beamed brightly before she turned around on her heels and ran back to Deana to ask if she could help Monica with the evening's meal for _her father._


	4. Millicent's Gift to Damien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie gives her Uncle a gift.

 

 **December 25, 1999  
** Friday  
Thorn Manor

It was after six in the morning when Damien opened up his eyes.

He had always been an early riser and preferred to get most of his important work done before he even went to his office. He knew some of his staff thought he was a hard-ass, but he didn’t care that Robert had been described by others as the executive with the heart of gold. Given that, he expected that his staff have the same work ethic as he did. He wasn’t running a daycare center. The only reason he took Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off, was because of Mark and Millie’s visit. He’d be in tomorrow at the normal time, just as he expected all of his staff to be.

Damien heard his door open and he smiled. He knew exactly who it was.

“Uncle Damien! Are you up yet?”

He could hear the anticipation in her voice as Millie ran around to his bed to face him. She was wearing jeans and a sparkly Santa t-shirt.

“Yep. When did you get up, Miss Mary?”

“When the little hand was on the _FOUR_.” She proudly replied and then nuzzled into him, putting her arm around his neck. He always smelled so nice.

“And what did you do after that?”

“Waited until five and then went downstairs and found Deana and she helped me get dressed.”

“Did the opening of presents start yet?”

“No.” She tugged at his arm. “Daddy says I can’t until _you_ come downstairs…”

Damien smiled. “Okay, okay…Give me five minutes.”

"Yay! I’ll tell Daddy!” She ran out of the room forgetting to close the door behind her.

He went into the bathroom, pissed, took a quick shower, dried off, and then put on a suit and tie. He was hungry and hoped that Millie would want to eat breakfast before opening her presents...although he doubted it. Damien was hungry and hoped he could have a bagel and coffee before breakfast would be served.

On the way down the stairs, he could hear the holiday music. Damien didn’t mind the jovial tunes about Santa wondering if you were nice or naughty, or a song about jubilant children building a snowman that magically comes to life. He didn’t care for the religious songs, they were supposed to be joyous and glorious, but he thought they put a damper on the whole holiday mood. Spending time with Mark and Millie aside, It was just adding to his reason to get through this day as quickly as possible.

“Hey, there you are. Merry Christmas.” Mark gave Damien a hearty hug at the bottom of the stairs.

“Same to you. Please tell me we’re eating breakfast _before_ opening presents.”

“That’s the plan.” But Damien was not the father to a five-year-old girl who only wanted to tear into her presents.

Damien followed Mark into the kitchen where he found Millie wiggling in her chair.

“But I want to open presents my presents _now_...” Millie whined.

“We said breakfast first and you agreed. Uncle Damien is here, so you will sit and eat and then we will open gifts.” Mark hoped he didn’t sound like too much of a Scrooge.

“No.” Defiantly, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Damien looked into his niece’s eyes. “Millicent, you wouldn’t want Santa Claus to take your presents away, would you?”

Millie gaped at her uncle, uncertain as to how serious he was, but she didn’t want to risk it. She needed to get to her dolls, so she picked up her spoon and began eating her cereal.

And as they ate, Millie calmed down as Damien’s words worked their magic to a much relieved Mark. After breakfast once hands were washed and dried on her pants, a happily anxious Millie lead him and Damien into the family room.

“Let the festivities begin.”

As Millie tried to decide where to start, Damien looked up to the top of the tree where the angel was looking no worse for wear. The miniature nativity had seen better days, so Mark had put that in an empty box yesterday and advised the servants to put in storage. Neither he nor Damien had had the heart to throw away decorations that had been in the Thorn family for decades.

Damien began set up the video camera, smiling as Millie could scarcely contain herself.

“Did Santa bring me my dolls!?”

“I don’t know, so we better start opening boxes.” Mark made sure that she had to open her other gifts before she got to her dolls, or there was a good chance the present opening would start and end with them.

And Millicent began opening the mountain of presents that she had received. First, were all the gifts from her mother’s family...her grandparents and her Aunt Claire. Next, were presents from family friends, people with whom Mark was close and treated Millie and him like family.

Then there were Damien’s presents…“I think we need to take a break.”

“Looks like someone read our minds.”

Monica came in with the tray of hot chocolate and cookies.

“It wouldn’t be Christmas in the Thorn house without children eating gingerbread men and having hot chocolate while they open their presents.”

“Thank-you, Monica.” Damien grabbed his mug of coffee off the silver tray.

“Yes, thank-you.” Mark grabbed his and watched as Monica handed Millie her mug of hot chocolate and a plate with a large gingerbread man on it.

“Fhank-you,” Millie mumbled, her mouth full of gingerbread man as she bit off the head and put it back on the plate and began to tackle her pile of presents from Damien.

Monica smiled. Millie was such a cute child. She could not believe that the littlest Thorn was five-years-old. She remembered the horrible circumstances surrounding her birth, and here she was a typically excited little girl wanting to see what Santa had left for her under the tree.

Damien’s stack of gifts seemed to be an unending stash of loot...clothing, toys, books, tickets to events and places...at one point, Mark raised an eyebrow at his cousin, who simply ignored him.

“Pink ice skates! Daddy, look, pink ice skates with fringe!”

“Yes, I see.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Damien took a drink of his coffee.

Damien had been keeping the last gift for his niece aside until she had made her way to the bottom of her pile.

“This is the last one, I promise. But you have to be very careful with it.” And Damien handed her a box and he watched as she gingerly put it on the floor and unwrapped it.

“It’s so pretty. Daddy, look! It’s a jewel-ree box.”

But it was no child’s jewelry box. It was sterling silver and in the shape of a heart. The top of the box had cream and pearl accents and there was a large ‘M’ in decorative script in the middle of the heart.

“Please be careful, Millie,” Mark warned.

Once opened, it played, _Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_ from Tchaikovsky’s _Nutcracker Suite._

“Thank-you, Uncle Damien...” Millie whispered.

“You’re welcome, Miss Mary, but that’s not a toy and you’re going to have to decide whether to leave it here, or take it home.”

“Okay.” She wanted to leave the jewelry box here. It belonged here. In her room on her big dresser.

“So, now can we get to me?” Mark was getting a bit annoyed.

“Dollies!” Millie exclaimed getting more anxious by the minute.

“Maybe...we need to open up some of your other gifts first.”

Millicent began on the gifts from her father. It was a much smaller pile than Damien’s and, for the most part, far less exciting. Clothing, though much more practical than the apparel that Damien had given to her. A stuffed toy elephant that she had no use for, and even though she liked to read, she really didn’t care about the books, A heart shaped bottle of kids perfume that smelled like a mixture of cotton candy and bubble gum. Nope. Not interested.

Mark had a special gift as well. He’d like to think it would have held more meaning to Millie than an, albeit beautiful, music box.

Damien watched Millie’s face twist as she if she were given a spoonful of medicine that tasted like broccoli.

It was Mark’s white leather bound _Bible_ from when he was a little boy. Millie’s name was inscribed in gold below his.

“This used to be my _Bible_ and I would like you to have it, Millie. We can read the stories together.”

Millie had no interest in Mark’s book, but she smiled politely and put it next to the pile of the other books that she did want.

Where were her dolls? All she wanted were her dolls and then she opened the final box from her father. She was giggling and clapping her hands and soon the unwrapped packages were in her lap.

“My dollies! But I can’t open the box…”

“We’ll help you, Millie.” Mark and Damien set to work and soon the two dolls were in her eager little hands.

“Thank-you, daddy!” She gave Mark a hug.

“You’re welcome. Why don’t you tell your Uncle Damien who they are.”

“Well, they are Ruth and Pearl from _Petticoats and Bows_ and I have _all_ the books. For now I’m reading the easy version, but daddy says it won’t be long until I’m reading the ones for the ely-mentry school children. Right?”

He smiled at her. “For sure.” Like any parent, Mark wanted to keep his child small forever.

“The stories take place a long time ago, in the 1800s, that’s before ‘lectricity, and phones and television.” Millie held out her left hand and wiggled it so the blonde haired doll moved back and forth. “This is Ruth; she’s the older one and she likes to keep a clean home.” She thrust out her right hand. “This is Pearl. She’s younger and she has light brown hair like I do. She likes to do fun things like climb trees, swing, and play jacks.”

“I see.” Damien took a sip of his coffee.

“They fight sometimes because Ruth is always telling Pearl to be neat and tidy, but they’re sisters, so that means they love each other.” And she danced away, playing with her dolls.

“How is it that _she_ opened all the gifts, but it’s me that needs a nap?” Mark yawned.

Damien shut off the video camera. “She’s like a tiny tornado.”

“Welcome to my world.”

She came running over. “May I go upstairs and play?” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Sure, you go right ahead and play upstairs.”

She took off like she had been shot from a cannon, both her dolls clasped in her hands.

“Okay Santa, where’s my gift?” Mark held out his hand.

“Who says I got you anything?”

“Of course you did. Where is it?”

Damien got up and opened up the cabinet in the entertainment center and handed Mark a red and green plaid wrapped box.

He put it up to his ear and shook it, “I wonder what this is…”

“Why don’t you open it up and see.”

Mark carefully opened up the box. It was a brown leather motorcycle jacket. “Wow. This is impressive, Damien. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mark tried it on; it fit perfectly.

“So...you’re alright with the jacket…”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Okay, so I’ll keep the motorcycle that goes with the jacket? I suppose that it would be easier, then I’d only have to buy the jacket…”

“What motorcycle?” Mark’s eyes got wide with excitement.

“The one that goes with the jacket, dumbass.” He got up and went back to the entertainment center and took out an envelope and handed it to him. “It’ll be delivered whenever you want it. It’s winter, so you won’t get much use out of it right now. There’s a picture of it in the envelope.”

Mark opened up the beige manilla envelope and pulled out the photo. The bike was blue and he looked at the paperwork and found out it was a 1999 model, Harley-Davidson FLHRCI Road King Classic.

“It’s gorgeous Damien. Thank-you.”

“When the weather’s nicer, we can ride together.”

“It’s a date.”

“So, where’s _my_ present?”

“Close your eyes.” Mark got up and reached behind the chair in which he was sitting and pulled out a bag full of engraved golf clubs.

“Let me guess...a sweater.”

“Good guess, but no. You may open your eyes now. Do you like them?”

Damien was standing at this point. “These are just what I needed. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come out onto the links with me come spring?”

Mark stretched out on the couch. “No thanks. I’d rather...do anything else.” He closed his eyes.

“Your loss. I have Christmas bonuses to hand out.”

“You go right ahead and make sure they come with apologies for you being such an ass.”

“Will do.” Damien left Mark napping on the sofa to deliver some holiday cheer to the staff… _especially…_

 

 

666

**DAMIEN’S ROOM**

Upstairs, Millie was in her room playing with her new dolls. She needed something from Damien’s room, so she got up and with Pearl in hand, she quietly made her way to her uncle’s room.

The Man who whispered in her ear at night told her her doll wanted to give Damien a very special present and to hang it from the doorknob with care and then after she did that, she could take a nap for being such a good girl.

**DOWNSTAIRS**

Damien collected the stack of seven red envelopes from his desk. The eighth one, for his driver, would be handed out tomorrow when Victor showed up to take him to work. He also picked up the delicately wrapped box and went looking for Monica, whom he found in the kitchen taking the dishes out of the dishwasher.

“Merry Christmas, Monica.” He handed her her envelope.

“Mr. Thorn, you didn’t have to, but thank you very much.”

“I can be an exacting boss, so thank you for putting up with me.”

“I’ve worked for worse, trust me.” Such as the wench he hired to manage her and the rest of the staff.

“You make sure you and everyone else eat when we’re eating.”

“I will. Merry Christmas, Mr. Thorn.” She smiled.

“You too.” He smiled at her and went to play Santa with the other staff members.

All the envelopes were handed out...all but one and he found the last person he was looking for in the laundry room. She had been checking supplies and was now folding whatever had come out of the dryer.

“Merry Christmas, Deana.”

She turned and smiled. “Happy Holidays, Mr. Thorn.”

“Thank-you for dressing Millie this morning.”

“My pleasure.”

Damien picked up a pair of his socks and folded them. “How are you doing today?”

“Very well, thank-you. And yourself?”

“I’m always happy to see Mark and Millie. Will you see your family tomorrow?”

“Just my sister.”

Her sister Candace was a model and had flown in specifically to see her for the holidays. She’d be flying back out the next day to do a photoshoot in Paris.

Damien picked up a few more articles and folded them and soon the last piece of clothing was in the basket, he picked up the red envelope. “This is for you.”

“You pay me plenty.”

“Yes, I know, but this is your Christmas bonus...there’s extra in there for managing everyone, which you do very well.”

“Thank-you.”

“This is for you, as well.” He handed her a present. None of the other staff had received gifts apart from the money.

“I can’t accept this.”

Damien smiled. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well, if it’s coming from you, it’s expensive.”

“Please accept it. If I don’t give it to you now, I’ll lose my nerve and have to wait all the way until next Christmas.”

She gingerly took the present. It was a box with a gold leaf design all around it with a lid, which had a big red bow wrapped around it. She undid the bow and pulled off the lid and looked inside; it was a book and when she took it out, she could see that it was a copy of Harper Lee’s _To Kill a Mockingbird_. She opened it up, wondering if he had written something inside, when she noticed the publication date...and the line beneath it. It wasn’t just an ordinary copy of this novel.

She gasped and handed it back to him. “This is a _first edition_ Mr. Thorn, I can’t take this.”

“You can and you will. Please. You do so much around here and Millie loves you. Please take it.”

“Okay. Thank-you so much.” She quickly stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her. “Before I lose _my_ nerve.”

“I told Monica and I’ll tell you as well, you make sure to eat when we do.”

“We will.”

“Merry Christmas, Deana.”

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Thorn and thank-you.”

“You’re welcome, Deana. I’ll talk to you later.”

He knew Deana’s sister because he had seen her in magazines and as he turned to leave, he’d never be convinced that it wasn’t Deana who had inherited the looks, as well as the brains, in her family.

It was nearly one and Damien began wondering where his niece was. More likely than not, daughter had taken after father and sure enough, he went to her room and found her sleeping soundly, her blonde Ruth doll tucked in beside her. Damien gave a quick look around her bed...the dark haired one...Pearl was nowhere to be found.

He would let her nap for a little while longer and went into his room and nearly broke his neck when he tripped over something. He looked down. What were his black leather oxfords doing in the middle of his floor? He bent down and picked one up, one of the laces missing.

Millie must have been in his room, though why she removed the laces from one of his shoes was beyond him. He picked up the other shoe and went to return them to the walk-in closet and was stopped in his tracks.

There, dangling from the knob by her neck, was Pearl and she had been secured there with the missing lace from his shoe.

Damien stood by the doorway looking out to his niece’s room...Millie had done this...but why?

He went to the closet door and tried to undo the lace, which was problematic, not for least reason being that his hands were shaking. Also, Millie had tied the shoelace to the doorknob tightly and with a double knot so the only thing Damien could do was to get his pen knife from the top of his dresser but before that, he went into his closet and grabbed the digital camera. Not that he wanted a souvenir, but if he had to tell Mark, Damien was afraid that without a picture, Mark would not believe him.

He took several pictures from different angles and double checked to make sure that they had successfully came out.

He cut the lace and freed the doll and then held the doll by the lace and suddenly felt shivers go up his spine.

_Why was this familiar to him? Like it had happened before._

That was crazy. Damien had never hung dolls from a doorknob, nor had Millie ever done anything like this before, so he wasn’t sure where that idea was coming from.

He carefully cut the shoelace from around the doll’s neck. Either he would approach her to question her, or she would approach him to ask for her doll back, either way, he’d be speaking to her about it...but not right now. They still had a big day ahead. Maybe he and Mark could take her sledding on the grounds after their Christmas dinner.

_Look at me, Damien. It’s all for you…_

What the fuck was going on? There was no music on anywhere in this house and yet he heard carnival swirly music, the tinkery music that played on merry-go-rounds.

_What was wrong with his niece?_

...Or maybe the better question was…

_What was wrong with him?_

How could a hanging doll feel familiar to him? Maybe _whatever_ it was about the holidays that he didn’t like was getting to him...making him lose his mind in the process… _just like his father_...Damien closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would not let these feelings control him, whatever they were, wherever they came from. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror and went down to the kitchen.

**KITCHEN**

Damien poured himself another cup of coffee, he was startled when he felt someone slap him on the back.

“It’s only me.” Mark stifled a yawn. “How long was I out for?”

“A while.”

Mark still had on the motorcycle jacket. “Remember us bugging dad for a motorbike? He’d never let us have one.”

“Yes, I do.”

Mark poured himself a cup of coffee in his “M” mug. “Is Millie still upstairs?”

“She joined her father and grabbed a couple of zzz’s as well.”

“I’ll go get her. Are you okay, Damien? You seem a bit off.”

“I’m just tired.” He wasn’t exactly lying.

“Maybe I’m not the only one who could have done with a nap.”

“You wish, old man.”

Mark smiled and took off upstairs to get his daughter.

**  
MILLIE'S ROOM**

When Mark entered Millie’s room she was nowhere to be found, her little blonde doll was in her bed with the blanket over her like she was an actual person.  
He was about to call her name, when he heard the water run in the bathroom.

Millie’s red and green plaid dress with the Peter Pan collar was in a dry cleaner’s bag hanging on the hook of the closet door. Her little black patent leather Mary Janes on the floor next to it.

It was times like these when Mark missed Maureen the most. She’d be the one who be would be getting their daughter ready, helping her with her tights, making sure she was in her shoes, fixing her hair, and letting her wear a tiny bit of makeup and a spritz of perfume for a special occasion.

“Silly Milly.” Mark smiled at his daughter when she emerged. “How was your rest?”

But she only stared at him with a confused expression on her face.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Do you not feel well?” Mark wanted to feel her head to check for a fever.

She began inching away from him, making her way towards the door and when Mark turned around Damien was standing right there, while his daughter clung to Damien’s leg as if he was the last lifeboat leaving the Titanic.

“Maybe you can see what’s up with her.”

“Are you okay? You didn’t eat too much chocolate, did you? Or have too much Christmas fun?” Damien playfully admonished her.

She giggled. “No.”

“Do you want Damien to help you get dressed?”

She eagerly nodded.

“Okay. I’ll grab my suit jacket and meet you downstairs.” With that, Mark left.

“Well, I’m not going to be of much use to you; I don’t have lots of experience helping little girls get dressed.” _Big girls on the other hand...well that was getting them undressed._ Whenever she slept over it was always either Deana or Monica that would help her with her clothes.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You have to help me take this off.”

Damien sat on the bed and helped Millie remove her jeans and top. “What’s next?”

“I need clean underpants...and my green tights.”

Damien went to her dresser and took a pair of underpants and tights from the top drawer and returned. Damien turned around as Millie put on her own underwear, but she sat, her legs out, expecting Damien to put on her tights.

“You have to bunch them.”

Damien did as she asked and gathered the tights in a bunch.

She laughed. “No, silly, you have to bunch the toes.”

“Ah, like pantyhose.” He had watched enough women get dressed to remember that and he gathered one leg at the toes and she put her foot in and then he did the same to the other one and she put her left foot in that side and he was pulling them up until they were at her waist.

“Now my dress please.”

Damien got up and grabbed the dress and removed the wrapper and unbuttoned the buttons and helped her step into it. She pulled it up and put her arms through and he did up the buttons and tied the large velvet ribbon that went around her waist.

“My hair, please.”

“You’re really taxing your Uncle Damien’s skills and abilities this afternoon, Miss Mary.”

“Just pigtails. Can you make pigtails?”

“Those are the ones that come out from the side?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

He went into the bathroom, grabbed a brush and some elastics with green bows attached and when he returned, he sat and she wiggled his legs apart until she was standing between his legs, her back to him.

“Part it in the middle...by the way, are you done playing with my dolly?”

He hadn’t been expecting this. He had gone upstairs to ask her about it, but he had not expected her to be so forthcoming. “Why did you think I needed it in the first place?” He had parted her hair and made the first pigtail.

“The Man said you did.”

“What man?”

“The Whispering Man...the One who talks to me. He told me you needed it for a present and that I should tie it on your door like how I did. Did I do it right? Did you like it?” She turned to face him.

“You did it just right and yes, it was very nice.” He smiled, but inside his world was crumbling apart...his niece had just gone from hanging dolls to hearing voices...maybe insanity _was_ hereditary.

“I need to turn so you can make them even. You’ll have to learn how to make them because…” She clamped both her hands over her mouth and then shook her head and then removed her hands. “Not yet, Silly Milly.”

A psychiatrist...his niece was in desperate need of a head shrinker. Now any remote hope that he had had about keeping all of this to himself had just disappeared. He kept his hands busy making her second pigtail, which, somehow, came out looking the same as the first one.

“There, all set.”

“Now my shoes. Where is my doll?”

“In my room.”

She sat and stuck out her feet so her shoes could go on and he put them on her and buckled them.

“Let me see!” She ran to the mirror and spun. “I look pretty! Thank-you, da...Damien. Can we go and get my doll now?”

“Of course.”

Damien watched as she took off to his room and he joined her. He handed her her the doll. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

“Okay.”

She came to him on the bed and he held her. “What else does this man say to you?”

She frowned. “I can’t remember right now. I remember at first, but then I forget. But I remember the next thing, but I have to say it downstairs. You like Deana don’t you?” She clapped her hands. “She’s going to be the mommy.”

_Jesus Christ, this was going from worse to worse…_

“May I have a snack? I’m hungry.” And as if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

“You bet. Let’s go.” Damien made sure he took his camera with him.

Downstairs, she sat at the kitchen table. “Daddy, may I have some juice?”

“Is Silly Milly thirsty after her nap?” Mark went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of cherry juice.

“No.”

“No, you’re not thirsty?”

“No. You aren’t the daddy anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Mark let out a small laugh. “I am so your daddy.”

“No. Damien’s the daddy now.”

“That’s what I get for giving her clothes for Christmas.” He put the cup down beside her.

“Uh, Mark…”

“No, not for Christmas, for all the time...Damien’s my daddy, the Whispering Man said so.”

“Mark, we have to talk...”

“Wait. What man?”

“The Whispering Man, who’s _Damien’s Father_ , said that Damien is the daddy now and you’re just Mark.”

“What is going on?”

“I told you. Damien is the daddy now.”

Mark could tell she was getting more frustrated by the second, but so was he. “Millicent Mary Thorn, _I_ am your father. I should know, I helped bring you into this world.”

She slammed her cup on the table. “No! _You are Mark. Damien is my daddy._ The Whispering Man said so. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“He is listening, Miss Mary.”

Damien got a new cup and filled it with fresh juice and wiped the table with a dishcloth. Thankfully, her dress didn’t get dirty. He quickly made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, put it on a plate and gave it to her.

“You’re listening, right, Mark?” He held Mark’s gaze, hoping that he would understand that agreeing with whatever was happening was the best way to calm her down.

“Yes.”

“See, honey? Everyone’s listening. Eat your sandwich and drink your juice. I’m going to talk to Mark, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” She relaxed once she saw that everyone was with the new game plan.

Damien and Mark stepped out into the dining room.

“There’s something wrong with her.” Damien started to say.

“Really? What was your first fucking clue, Sherlock? Who is this man she’s talking about?”

“I don’t know. When I went upstairs while you both were napping, I went into my room and I found the Pearl doll with a shoelace around its neck, dangling from my closet door. I took a picture of it…” He showed Mark the image from the digital camera.

Mark could feel the blood drain from his face and he was fairly certain that he was going to be sick.

“Why? Why would Millie do such a thing?”

“When I asked her why, she said that she did it for me and that the Whispering Man told her to do it, that it was a present for me.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I think we need to get her to express whatever’s in her head.”

“And how do we do that?”

“She can draw it. She likes Deana’s company, so I was thinking that before dinner, we can take Millie to see Deana and she can draw whatever is in her head. She’s going to need to see a psychiatrist. I’ll pay and we’ll make sure that she gets the best care in the world.”

Mark looked back inside the kitchen. She looked so happy sitting there eating her sandwich. She had no idea that she could be having a nervous breakdown. She was _only_ five-years-old. “If you remember your father…”

“Yeah, I know. But whatever happened to my father, he went through it alone. She has us and we’ll get her help. We just have to get through today. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“I have an idea.” Damien and Mark returned to the kitchen and Millie was all smiles as she laid eyes on Damien.

“Hi, daddy.”

“I know that I’m the daddy, but it’s upsetting to Mark because he thinks he’s the daddy and it’s hurting his feelings.”

“But he’s not. Don’t be sad, Mark.”

“I know, but how about, for today, you call me and Mark by our first names and for now, we give the daddy thing a rest. As a favor to me, please?”

She thought about it. “Okay, Damien.”

“Much better. When you finish, we can go and see Deana.”

“Yay!”

Damien breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, she had not thrown in the bit about her being the mommy.

She finished everything and brought her plate and cup to the sink. “Damien, can you take me to see Deana now?”

“Sure, but we’re going to get some things first, okay?”

“What kinds of things?”

“Art things. You’re going to draw some pictures for me and Mark.”

“Can I bring Pearl and Ruth?” She clasped her hands in excitement.

“You run upstairs to my room and get them, and I’ll get some paper, crayons, and markers and we’ll meet back here in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be fast!” She took off upstairs to get her dolls.

Damien went to the cupboard in the family room and grabbed some art supplies and he went back to the kitchen and Millie came careening around the corner with her dolls.

“I told you I would be fast.”

“You were. Come on.”

Deana was the only servant who had her own quarters. It was located off the formal dining room. Monica and the others slept in the servants part of the house.

Most times, Damien never bothered her. Once she was on the other side of the door, her time was her own, but he knew that she and Millicent liked each other and that she wouldn’t mind. He opened the one door and then there were two other doors, one that lead outside and one that lead into Deana’s apartment. Damien rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door opened.

“Mr. Thorn.” She looked at Damien first and then Mark. “Mr. Thorn. What’s wrong?”

“I was wondering if it would be all right if Millie came by to visit you for a bit.”

Deana had a placid smile on her face, but she looked from one man to the other. Mark looked like he had been kicked in the teeth and then told his puppy had cancer and Damien didn’t look much better either. Then there was Millie...

The girl was staring up at her, wide eyed and opened mouthed. At five, she lacked the guile to pretend not to understand what she had just figured out; that Deana knew exactly what was going on.

_So, it begins on Christmas Day no less._

“Of course. There’s some kind of art involved?” She pointed to the art supplies Damien was holding.

“Millie’s just going to draw some pictures about her family, but I think she needs to do it away from all the Christmas fanfare.”

Damien smiled at her, but she could see the strain behind it. “You just come back for her when you are ready for her to eat her dinner.”

“You be good for Deana, alright?” Damien handed all the art supplies to Deana… _and please don’t call her mommy._

“Alright, Damien. Bye, Mark.”

“You have a nice visit.”

“I will.”

Once Deana closed the door, Millicent took off into the apartment and went into the living room. She stopped and turned to face her. “You know the Whispering Man too.”

“Yes, I do, but he doesn’t talk to me that way he talks to you. You’re a very special little girl, Millie.”

“Damien’s the daddy now. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Oh, Millicent...did you _actually_ say that?”

“Yes, the Man said I should call Damien daddy now. It makes Mark sad, but...Damien’s the daddy now...and you’ll be the mommy soon.”

“He’ll...wait...what?” This was news to her. _Mrs. Damien Thorn_...only in her most private alone time did she let that fantasy play itself out in her head.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Okay.” She sat at the coffee table and Millie sat next to her. “Millicent, Mark and Damien do not know about the Whispering Man and Damien doesn’t know that the Whispering Man is his Father.”

“Oh.”

“This is all very surprising to them and yes, it hurts Marks feelings very much. If the Whispering Man said that it’s time for you to call Damien daddy, then that was the right thing to do. But, now they’re going to make you see doctors, Millicent.”

“Because I’m crazy?”

“That’s what they think, you are most certainly NOT crazy. But I’ll help you in any way possible and we’ll figure out something. I promise, Millicent. So, don’t be frightened.”

Millicent climbed into her lap. “I’m glad that you’re going to be the mommy.”

Despite what was going on, she smiled. “I am too.” She kissed the top of Millie’s head. “Would you like to draw some pictures?”

“Sure.”

As she watched Millicent draw, she cast her eyes out towards the door that separated her quarters from Damien’s…

 _Please Satan, please have Damien figure this out very soon._ She bowed her head, and then returned her attention to Millie.

 

 

666

“How are you doing?” Damien asked Mark as they sat in the kitchen.

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll get her to a doctor and hopefully we will get this all figured out soon.”

“I’m just being selfish.” Mark said.

“No, you’re not.”

“The only thing that should matter is Millie. If she thinks you are her father, then, I don’t know...but I lost my wife...I don’t want to lose my daughter as well.”

“She _is_ your daughter, but neither one of us has any idea of what’s happening to her. Let’s just get through the rest of today and then...we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I think I want to be alone for a while.”

Damien got up. “I’ll be in the study so if you want to talk, or just want some company, you come find me, all right?”

“I will.”

Mark watched his cousin leave and more than a little anger rose in him. He had been the one to have a child first and yet, again, here was Damien upstaging him, this time, in the child rearing department. And again, he felt selfish...this was about Millie, and doing what was best for her. He closed his eyes. He still remembered sitting in the doctor’s office after she was born, wanting to die. Then, it had been Millie, and Damien, who had saved him; _but if she abandoned him, who would save him then?_

Mark sighed and went back upstairs to his room to lay down.

 

 

666

**  
**  
2 HOURS LATER

Damien went to get Millie and she came back from Deana’s with her hands full of artwork. It took everything within Mark to get out of bed and go back downstairs. But it was for Millie. He would walk through fire for her.

“Look, Mark. I made pictures about today.”

Mark took a look at the drawings. All of them featured Damien and she together with Mark sitting to the side. “They’re very good pictures, Millie.” Mark gave her a weak smile...he couldn’t help it.

“Thank-you.”

“First we take some family pictures and then we eat.” Damine advised.

Mark was in no mood to take any family photographs. What was the fucking point? But, he would do his best to smile as to not upset his daughter even further.

After the automatic timer went off for the third time and the last family picture was taken. Mark sighed. Millie wanted to sit on Damien’s lap, and the more happy she seemed on the outside the more miserable he became on the inside.

“Who is ready for Christmas dinner?”

“Yay, turkey! Can Deana eat with us?”

“Oh, Millie no. Maybe next time when you come visit, but this is just for us, for family.”

She wanted to argue the point… _Deana was the mommy...she was family._ Deana had urged her not to talk back so much. The Whispering Man would make things happen when they were supposed to and she had to have patience about Mark and Damien as they sorted things out. She just needed to continue to be a _good girl_ and everything would be all right.

Mark, Damien and Millie sat down to dinner, where the only person who really seemed to enjoy the food was Millie. She talked to her dollies about how yummy the food was and she had seconds of everything, including the chocolate cream pie for dessert.

**  
MILLIE'S ROOM**

It was nine at night when Mark and Damien decided that Millie needed to go to sleep and then decided to turn in themselves; it had been a long day. They both helped Millie get ready for bed and thankfully, she asked both Damien and Mark to tuck her in.

“Deana says I have to have patience for now, but everything will work out.” She was sitting up but she was tired, but she had to tuck in her dollies before she could go to sleep.

“Patience is a good trait to have,” Mark suggested. “Sweetie, can I have a hug?”

“Sure.”

She hugged him, but there was something missing...it felt like he was getting a hug from a complete stranger and it took all of his self control not to start crying.

“Goodnight, Silly Milly.”

“Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, Millie.” Damien wanted to hug her, but he was afraid that she would be too affectionate.

“Goodnight, Damien.” She smiled at him...she wanted to call him daddy, but she kept that all inside of her for now. She tucked her dollies in and then she laid back and pulled the covers up to her chin.

“Night.”

Mark shut off the light, closed her door and stood in the hallway.

“Did you need anything before we turn in?”

“Apart from this day never happening? I’m spent.” Mark was exhausted, but he wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d get----he was neither tired, nor did he have any intention of sleeping, he just wanted away from his cousin. It would probably be a toss and turn kind of evening.

“Okay. You come get me, or text me, if you need anything.”

“Will do.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Damien, It’s not your fault. In my head, I know that, but…”

“Your heart is saying something different.”

“I love you, you know that.” Mark had to change the subject before his head exploded, “ I wish Dad could have been here...he’d have freaked over the bike.”

“That he would have, and we would have had to listen to him quote stats on how many people die in motorcycle accidents every year.” Damien went to Mark and embraced him and thankfully, Mark hugged him back. “We’ll get through this, like we get through everything.”

“That we will. Night, Damien.”

“Goodnight, Mark.”

Damien made his way to his room. He was too numb to take a shower. That could wait until the morning.

He then stripped from his clothes, not bothering to put things away where they belonged, and got into bed. He shut off the light, rolled over onto his side and let out a heavy exhalation of air.

If he had been asked this morning how he had expected this day to play out, it sure as shit wouldn’t have been this. He hoped that whatever was going on with Millicent, it would be resolved soon, for all their sakes. He debated whether he would go into work tomorrow, but since he would be up anyway, he would decide then when he had his morning coffee.

The day’s events had taken their toll on him and Damien succumbed to his exhaustion, he closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep.


	5. Millicent's Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only one daddy.

**Thorn Manor  
January 10, 2000 (Monday)**

It was seven forty-five on a cold and snowy January morning when Deana sat at her desk creating the April schedule by hand instead of using the computer program. She heard crunching from behind the loveseat and knew exactly what was going on.

“Millicent,” she spoke softly, yet firmly, “are you getting crumbs on my carpet?”

“No.” She quickly covered her mouth, which was full of cookie.

“I’m sure they’re all worried sick, wondering where you are.” Deana stood up and went over to the loveseat and sat.

Millie stood up and came over to her. “I don’t want to see the doctor and get a needle...please don’t make me go, Mom- Deana.” She crawled into Deana’s lap.

She kissed Millie’s forehead. “You don’t have to worry about getting any needles, honey, you aren’t seeing that kind of doctor. This doctor just wants to talk to you about what the Whispering Man tells you.”

Deana hoped that he might be a disciple and therefore wouldn’t put any undo stress on her...or put her on any medication. But with Mark taking Damien with him, she wouldn’t worry too much; he would make sure everything went well.

“Should I lie?”

“No, you should not.”

“Because I have to do something in February.”

“Never be afraid to do your tasks, sweetie, they’re important. Now let’s go see your daddy and Mark.”

As Deana watched Millie muster all the courage she had to deal with her familial situation, she thought, _why couldn’t everything be the way it was supposed to be?_

 

 

666

Mark and Millie had stayed with Damien for the weekend. The counselling session was for the whole family and since the doctor was located in downtown Chicago, Damien suggested that due to the weather, it was best for them to stay over Saturday and Sunday.

“I can’t find Millie.” As a last resort, he had checked the wine cellar, his and Damien’s prefered hiding place when they had been children.

“She couldn’t have gone that far.” Damien was about to ask someone to go look for her when Deana came in carrying Millie.

“Look whom I found.”

Damien stepped back to let Mark be the one go to Millie. She squirmed, but she let Mark hug her, but only briefly as she struggled out of his arms and went to Damien.

“Daddy, I want to watch TV.”

“Well, what does Mark say?”

“I think you at least need to eat your breakfast first.”

“Mr. Thorn,” Deana said to Damien. “May I speak to you for a minute?”

“Of course.”

Deana walked into the dining room to make sure the table was properly set for the morning while Damien followed her so they could talk. It was obvious to all the staff when they would hear Millie refer to her father as ‘Mark’ and Damien as ‘daddy’, so that gave Deana her cue to make a suggestion.

“I wasn’t sure to mention this, but it’s obvious that your niece is going through something, and no one wants to pry when she calls _you_ daddy and Mark by his name. If she’s going talk about those things with the doctor, and I know it seems insignificant, but I think Millie would be more comfortable wearing a nice blouse and dress pants instead of a dress. She was hiding from the two of you because she thinks she is going to get a needle.”

“You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me, Deana. I think that’s a good idea, since we woke up to three inches of more snow today.”

“I’ll come get you when breakfast is ready, Mr. Thorn.”

“Thank-you. And thank-you for caring about my niece. You can help her change her outfit when she’s done eating. “

“She’s such a good girl. We all love her around here.”

She watched as Damien walked back to Mark and Millie, and she made her way to the kitchen to check on things. Not that Deana cared for any of the other staff. The only thing she cared about were her feelings for the child. She really did love Millicent as if she were her own.

Someday, Deana thought, Millicent was going to realize just how lucky of a girl she was.

 

 

666

**Thorn Limousine**

Damien had reservations about Mark’s colleague. Mark told him that while he did like teaching psychology to high school students, he still had an open family practice. Damien had done own research, the doctor graduated from DePaul University, he stated on his website that he liked opening up young minds to the field of psychology which is why he taught at Geneva High School twice a week because he enjoyed ‘the art’ of teaching.

It was always dicey when you trusted an outsider to help with family matters, but they weren’t about handle this situation on their own, so if they wanted to truly help Millie they had no choice but to seek outside help.

He also wondered if Millie would call them by their proper names once she was there to act like she wasn’t doing it? Damien had her collection of drawings in his briefcase, plus a list of questions that he wanted to ask the doctor.

Millie didn’t say a word during the entire car ride, she just rested her head on Damien’s arm in the Thorn limousine as if Mark didn’t exist.

The air was so thick, Damien could have cut it with his arm let alone a knife. He understood Millie being silent during the ride to the doctor’s office, but Mark hadn’t said much to him this morning. He realized this wasn’t easy for his cousin, but he thought they should be working together instead of having this situation tear the family apart.

_It wasn’t easy for him either. He was not the enemy._

Damien felt safe in talking now that Millie fell asleep.

“Mark, while this issue isn’t going to be fixed in one day, it is going to be all right. I promise.”

“I know, I shouldn’t feel what I feel towards you. It’s not your fault. Look at her, she’s so safe and comfortable next to you.” Mark wanted to smooth her hair, but he was afraid that she’d wake up and have a tantrum. Mark thought _he_ could use a good counseling session himself...plus a few drinks to get through this day.

“That is why we are going where we are going and we’ll get through this, _together._ ” Damien advised giving Mark a quick slap on the knee. 

 

 

666

**Thorn Kitchen**

Deana was flipping through the Jack and Jill catalogue while she enjoyed her coffee. She wanted to buy Millie a gift for being such a trouper, but then she thought maybe she could give her something personal from her belongings instead, or maybe both.

She watched Monica come from the pantry, a bag of flour in hand. Damien had requested all of Millie’s favorites for dinner, including strawberry tarts for dessert. She circled a picture of a doll that came with a bracelet and she heard Monica utter a derisive snort.  
“Problem?”

“Ms. Patterson, I know you are my boss, but as I’ve I told you on more than one occasion: I wish you would stop acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl with Mr. Thorn. Now you are reading a catalog of children’s toys. Are you trying to use Millie to get to Mr. Thorn?”

_What I’d really like to do is punch you right in your fucking face._

Deana sighed. “Monica, I will do the classy thing and not dignify your idiocy with a response. How I live my life is none of your damn business, so take your advice, which wasn’t solicited, and shove it.”

She grabbed the catalog and went back to her apartment. She thought about buying Damien a gift, too...a belated holiday gift, perhaps. But she knew that the gift would be little more than an attempt to hide the guilt she was feeling.

She hated keeping all of this from Damien, yet she knew she had no choice but to go along with the plan. You don’t betray Satan if you wanted to see the sun come up the next morning and in time Damien, would understand that….at least she hoped that he would.

She had her doubts about this therapy session. It wasn’t necessary for the little girl because even though it wouldn’t happen for a while, Millicent would be living here with Damien as her father. It wasn’t necessary for Mark, although Deana figured, he probably could use his own professional visit, and Deana wondered if Satan was having this be a growing experience for Damien? Either way, she had to keep her mouth closed and let the events unfold as they were supposed to.

Whether or not she was going to be Mrs. Thorn was a moot point right now. Even though the ‘Whispering Man’ might have told Millie so, Damien still had his free will to do with as he pleased. Until he realized who and what he was, she couldn’t do anything but wait for him to take the lead.

But more than anything, her heart ached for Millicent. She was doing exceptionally well under the circumstances, especially for being so young. Deana looked at her watch. Millie’s therapy session should have gotten under way by now and she hoped that her girl was doing well.

She had looked up the doctor on the internet; Dr. Hershey seemed all right. However, if he harmed Millicent in anyway, shape or form...she wouldn’t bother handing him over to some less than savory disciples who had certain violent predilections; or she’d just kill him herself. She’d kill anyone who harmed Millicent, or, for that matter, Damien and it wouldn’t cost her even so much as a night’s sleep in the doing of it.

She returned to her catalogue and as she pictured _her_ poor Millicent in the cold and sterile doctor’s office, frightened that she’d get a needle, she was more determined than ever to pick out the perfect gift for Millie.

 

 

666

_A score is a score is a score._

Dr. Neil Hershey smiled as he unscrewed the top off his fountain pen and made note of today’s date in his notepad. Underneath that, he wrote,

_Millicent Thorn, age five._

He hadn’t done anything to make this happen, it had just fallen into his lap. He figured he was on the right path teaching psychology to a bunch of idiot, future slackers who couldn’t think their way out of a paper sack when he had met Mark Thorn, “cousin” to the Antichrist.

It’s not like he wanted the little girl to be in pain, but she was obviously being groomed and that could not be stopped.

“Dr. Hershey,” came the secretary’s soft voice from the intercom, “The Thorn’s are here to see you.”

“Good. Send them in.”

“Mr. Thorn?”

Mark looked up at the secretary.

“Dr. Hershey will see you now.”

Mark sighed when Millie held Damien’s hand as they walked in. He thought of the most stupid thing...should he refer to him as Neil, or, now that they were in his office, the professional greeting of Doctor Hershey? But the good doctor was nearly fifteen years older than he was. Mark wanted to set a good example for Millie that adults should be treated with respect. He made himself smile when he really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“Hello, Dr. Hershey.” He shook the man’s hand. “Thank you so much for seeing us. I know you must be busy, what with patients and school work.”

“For you? No problem.”

“I’d like to introduce to you to my cousin Damien Thorn.”

“Hello.” Damien offered his hand and the doctor the extended his hand and the doctor seemed to have a too-firm, _too eager_ of a handshake, but he dismissed it.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Thorn. And who is this?” He got down on his haunches as he addressed Mark’s daughter.

Millie tried to remember what Deana told her about how the doctor just wanted to talk to her and that there would be no scary needles.

“I’m Millicent Mary Thorn.”

“Well hello, Millicent Mary Thorn. How old are you?”

“Five.” She held up her left hand, while she held on to Damien’s with her right.

“Why don’t you sit on the couch and get comfortable.”

“Dr. Her-shee, would you like to meet my dollies?”

“Of course.”

“I put them in my backpack because they were scared they might have to get a needle.”

“There are no needles here, so both you and your dollies are safe. Millicent, while you get your dolls out of your backpack, why don’t you introduce me to your family.”

“This _is_ daddy.” She pointed to Damien. “And that is Mark. He’s daddy’s cousin.” She then introduced Pearl and Ruth to the doctor and then she quickly put her dolls back in her backpack, because they needed to take their naps.

Mark sighed. At least Millie was consistent in front a professional.

“Millicent, has Damien always been your daddy?”

“No. The Whispering Man, the man who talks to me at night while I sleep told me.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me that my Uncle Damien is really my daddy and NOT Mark and to always believe him, because he speaks the absolute truth.”

Mark felt what was now becoming an all too familiar sinking feeling in his gut. Not to mention mind numbing fear. He felt that his body was strained, and that his pain came from the inside out.

Why was Millie acting this way? It wasn’t unusual for only children to have an imaginary friend, but this Whispering Man who told her to shun him and accept Damien as her father….again, where was all of this coming from? Was it something he did? Was it because her mother died?

“Don’t you think this hurts Mark’s feelings?”

“I don’t mean to hurt Mark’s feelings.” She shrugged. “But Damien’s _my_ daddy now.”

“Do you like to draw?”

“Yes, very much.” Not as much as reading, but drawing was a close second.

Neil got up and held out his hand and the little girl took it. He brought her to the easel that he had set up to help the children who couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate. But in Millicent’s case, there was a different reason to get her over here.

“You can use the crayons and drawing pencils in this box.”

He opened it for her and watched her eyes get big when she spotted the piece of paper with her name on it in pink marker. She picked it up and looked at him and as carefully as he could, he gave her a tiny shake of his head to indicate that she should remain silent.

“I’m going to talk with Mark and Damien. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yes, Doctor Hershey.” She giggled. “Like the chocolate bar.”

“Exactly like the chocolate bar. Can you draw me a picture of your family?”

“Okay.”

She watched him walk away and once the doctor was sitting with daddy and Mark, she carefully opened the note.

**_Millie, I KNOW THE WHISPERING MAN, TOO. It’s our secret, so don’t tell anyone. Ssh.--Doctor Hershey_ **

She smiled. That made three people who knew about the Whispering Man. She wondered who else knew about Him? She really hoped that Damien could talk to Him and then he would realize that he was the daddy now.

She was sure Deana would want to see this note so she folded the paper back up again and shoved it in her pants pocket and then picked up a crayon and began drawing the picture that the doctor asked for.

Dr. Hershey planned to take minimal notes. He knew why all of this was all happening, but he took enough notes so that Mark, and especially Damien, would not get suspicious.

Mark watched as the doctor sat and then let his frustrations come to a head. “Not to be blunt, Neil, but what the fuck is wrong with _my_ daughter?”

Since Mark had come to him with the problem, Neil Hershey had spent time pouring over his texts, trying to come up with a credible explanation to what was wrong with Mark’s daughter. Now it was time to see how good of a job he had done.

“I believe that Millicent is engaging in a type of transference.”

“What does that mean? And not in psycho-babble, gobbledy-gook.” Mark locked eyes with the doctor.

“Well, for whatever reason, Millicent has transferred her paternal feelings from you to Damien.”

“But why?”

The doctor looked at Damien. “That’s what the therapy will help us uncover.”

Both Damien and Mark asked questions, and if Dr. Hershey had to say so himself, he was doing a pretty good job of answering them and making it seem as if they would get to the bottom of everything going on in Millie’s mind. When Damien took out his digital camera and showed him the picture of the dark-haired doll hung from the door knob, the doctor understood: Satan was acting through Millicent to get Damien to realize who he was. Now came the tricky part.

“In order for Millicent to be in a healthy frame of mind to help us get to the bottom of this, I believe that it would be in her best interest to spend some time with Damien. I would suggest perhaps staying over on the weekends.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mark was standing at this point. “I don’t think so.”

“Doctor, are you sure that’s best?”

“Millicent’s mental state is very fragile right now. She needs stability and for her, that means Damien is the father.”

Never before had Mark Thorn been faced with such a soul wrenching decision. On the one hand, he wanted to do what was right for his daughter. He’d die for her if he had to. On the other hand, he was scared that the more time she spent with Damien, the less she would want to be with him. _How long before weekends became weeks, became months, became years? Became permanent?_

“If it’s what’s best for Millicent.” Meanwhile, Mark was going to start a search for another doctor, one who didn’t insist that his daughter live with someone else.

“I’m done with my drawings.”

“May I see them please, Millicent?” The doctor didn’t need to see them to know what he’d find.

She brought them over and put them on the table. She had done three pictures. All of which had a little girl, clearly Millicent with a man with dark hair, Damien, and a woman yellow hair, some kind of mother for the child. In all three pictures, she had drawn Mark standing outside the door. Exactly as the doctor had predicted.

Looking at the pictures, Mark just wanted to curl up and die.

“I like it here. Can I come back again?”

“Thank-you, I’m glad you like it here. Yes, you can come back again and you can draw some more pictures, if you like.”

“I’ll make sure my dollies won’t have to take naps the next time they come. Can we go now, daddy?”

She had looked at Damien and Neil had to stop himself from smiling. It wouldn’t be long until she assumed her rightful place as the Antichrist’s daughter.

“I think the doctor has other people to see, Millie. Thank-you, doctor.”

“Your welcome, Mr. Thorn. And Mark, I’ll see you at school. You feel free to come and talk to me about this away from the office.”

“I will.” Though all Mark wanted to do was punch Neil Hershey in the face for trying to break up his family.

“And it was very nice to meet you, Millicent Mary Thorn.”

She giggled as the doctor held out his hand and she shook it.

“We’ll figure all of this out together.” He looked up at Damien and Mark.

With that, the Thorn’s left the office to go home while Dr. Hershey closed his eyes.

“My Lord Satan. Thank-you for allowing me, your humble servant, to help open the Antichrist’s eyes to his true self. Soon, Millicent Mary Thorn will be with her real family. Praise Satan.”

He opened his eyes and sat at his desk, preparing his notes for his next patient.

 

 

666

**Thorn Manor**

Deana was doing her rounds, making sure the housework was being done as scheduled when, instead of hearing the vacuum cleaner, and the spray of furniture polish on tables, she heard Ellie and Jenny standing in the foyer giggling.

“...you better not tell, Deana.” Ellie advised her co-worker in-between the laughter.

“Ellie and Jenny, you’d get more work done if your hands moved as much as your mouths. And what had you better not tell me? And it’s Ms. Patterson to the both of you.”

“I was just looking at Mr. Thorn’s mail….” Jenny began.

“Which is none of your business.” Deana took the pile of mail out of her hand.

“We’re sorry.”

Ellie was normally a good worker bee, but when she was thrown in the company of someone who wanted to gossip or take extended breaks, she was influenced to follow the pack.

“It was a postcard -- so it’s not like we held an envelope up to the light.”

“I don’t care if it’s junk mail addressed to the occupant, you are supposed to respect his privacy. Finish your work before Mr. Thorn gets home.”

“Yes, Ms. Patterson.” They replied in unison.

Deana took the mail to where Damien preferred it, on his desk in his study. The smell of the orchid perfume was nauseating. The front of the postcard was a beach at sunset. She turned it over. It was postmarked from Monte Carlo.

The writing was thin, neat, and cursive.

_Dearest Damien,_

_Guess who! I’ll be seeing you in a few months, Darling. xoxoxo_

She knew Damien wasn’t seeing anyone, neither casually, nor seriously and regardless, it wasn’t her concern. _Then stop thinking about clawing this bitch’s eyes out, Deana_. Ignoring the panic inside of her, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

 

666

**AFTER SESSION HOME**

Millie no sooner stepped into the foyer, then she then threw off her coat and removed her boots.

“I’m going to see Deana!” She took off running without waiting to see what the adults wanted her to do. She knocked on the door of her quarters.

“It’s me, Deana.”

With a smile, she opened the door. “Hello, gorgeous. How was the session with the doctor?”

“That’s what I came to tell you.”

Deana held the door open wider and Millie came in. She looked around before closing the door: where were Damien and Mark?

Millie took the paper out of her pocket and sat on the sofa. “Here.” 6

She quickly read the note. These aren’t the tactics she would have used, but, it was probably the only way Dr. Hershey could tell the little girl without anyone else being tipped off.

“Do you have any questions that I can answer for you?”

“When do I get to live here for real, Deana? Dr Hershey said on the weekends. Daddy and Mark are talking.”

The ride in the car was the tense kind of quiet, which was why Millie want to get away, they were going to fight about her, she just knew it. Just because she was five-years-old, that didn’t mean that she was stupid.

“I don’t know the answer to that question, Sweetie. I wish I did. May I keep this?”

“Yes. I- I don’t want it…”

Deana felt a lump in her throat. “Did you eat lunch yet, Millie?”

“We were supposed to go out, but daddy called home and said Monica would have lunch ready for me.”

“Before I take you to the kitchen, I want to tell you how proud I am of you for not being afraid of seeing the doctor.” Deana extended her hand and Millie took it. “I have a surprise for you.”

Millie was tired and didn’t want to do anything else apart from taking a nap, and that including eating. But she knew that it would make daddy and Deana happy, so before she had her lunch, she let Deana lead her to her bedroom.

“It belonged to my grandmother, but I really want you to have it.”

Millie smiled in spite of her feelings. It was an antique silver comb with pale cream and pink gardenias. It was very nice. She could keep it in the jewelry box that her daddy got her for the holidays.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Let’s put this in your hair and see how pretty it looks. How pretty you look.”

Deana grabbed a brush and began brushing out Millie’s hair and she was in the middle of a downstroke when an idea stopped her cold.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetie.”

Which was true, there was _nothing_ wrong, but Deana could have kicked herself for, even out of curiosity, not checking for the family birthmark sooner.

“Let’s go where there’s more light.”

Deana lead her to the window and she sat and pulled Millicent between her legs and began brushing her again with her left hand, while her right moved the girl’s shoulder length hair at her scalp. Deana knew where it was on Damien, so that’s where she started and sure enough, hidden under the child’s light brown hair, were the three sixes.

Her hands moved, arranging the comb just so in Millie’s hair so it looked presentable, all the while trying to remain calm and collected.

“There. Perfect.”

“I wanna see!”

Millie ran to the mirror and admired herself and her new accessory. Deana could hardly breathe. _She knew the girl was special, but not this special_. She had the mark. All that mattered was that Millie truly was Damien’s daughter in every way possible.

“Don’t I look pretty?”

She came bouncing back to the window seat, all smiles and sweetness.

“You look beautiful. You are beautiful.”

“Thank-you for the comb, Deana. I love it so much.”

Millie put her arms around her and Deana had to take a steadying breath to stop from crying. She wanted to be married to Damien. Not because he was wealthy, or handsome, or even because he was the Antichrist. She wanted to marry him because she was in love with him. Because she loved him and understood him, as she loved and understood Millicent...her daughter. They were a family and as far as Deana was concerned, Damien coming to know that as a fact couldn’t happen soon enough, though she would patiently wait as long as was necessary.

“Mommy, I think I’m hungry now.”

She smiled at the young girl. “Well, then let’s eat.”

“May I take a nap after lunch?”

“Of course, sweetie. Let’s see if your lunch is ready.”

 

 

666

**Damien’s Study**

It was going from bad to worse.

The car ride had been an one, long uncomfortable silence since neither wanted to talk about what Dr. Hershey suggested in front of Millie. The silence continued in Damien’s study as Mark was on his second whisky, while Damien was on his first. Someone was going to have say something first, and at the risk of being labeled ‘the bad guy’ yet again, Damien spoke.

“I think you had enough to drink.”

“You know.” Mark finished his second glass. “I never realized before how condescending you can be Damien. Fuck. You probably are as happy as a pig in shit right now.”

Damien would let as much as he could go, Mark was hurting and he didn’t want to fight with his cousin at all.

“Mark, I’m not.”

Mark raised his voice, “Spare me. Dr. Hershey suggested Millie stay with you on the weekends. How long is it going to be before she’s living with you full time? I’m telling you right now, Damien, this is not going happen without a fight. I will **_NOT_** give up my daughter to you. Millie is **_NOT_** your daughter, she is mine!”

Deana couldn’t stop Millie from racing from the kitchen to the study because she wanted to show her Daddy her comb before having her lunch.

Damien stood up and Mark turned around to see Millie standing there, her eyes welling up with tears.

“NO!”

“I’ll go,” Damien offered.

“There you go again…” Mark started to say.

“If you think I’m going to let you tend to Millie with a buzz on you are sadly mistaken. Think about her for once.” Damien knew that last line wasn’t entirely true, as Mark always thought about Millie. “Deana, why don’t you see if Mark would like some coffee...I’ll be right back.”

“Deana, I can think for myself and I’d like to be alone and if I choose to drink then that’s my business.”

“As you wish, Mr. Thorn.” Deana closed the door, leaving Mark alone.

**Millie’s Room**

Millie couldn’t lay down with the comb in her hair, so she placed it on her side table, before she put the covers over her head.

Damien knocked and softly opened the door. “Miss Mary, you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I’I’m n-not h-hungry, d-d-daddy.”

“I know this is isn’t easy for you, honey. It’s not easy for any of us. Mark included. And he’s reacting in the only way he knows how...come on, I want to see your pretty face.”

Millie pulled down the covers.

“If I bring a tray upstairs for you, will you eat just a little something?”

“Maybe. But I have to go home with Mark….”

“Not tonight.”

He figured, let Mark get drunk all he wanted, but he wasn’t going to let Mark drive himself and Millie home, and Damien wasn’t going to reward that behavior by having Victor drive them home either.

Damien picked up the comb that was on the table. “This is very beautiful. Did Deana give you this?”

“Yes. It belonged to her grandmother.”

“That was very nice of her. Did you tell her thank you?”

“Yes, I did, daddy. Will you put it in my jewelry box for me?”

“Of course. Why don’t you take a little nap before lunch?” Damien made sure she was tucked in her bed, along with Pearl and Ruth.

“Okay… I am tired…” She let out a yawn.

Damien kissed her on the forehead and then let her sleep. Lunch could wait. It had been a difficult day for their family. He put the comb in her jewelry box as she had requested. He would thank Deana for giving Millie such a nice present and then try his best to calm Mark down…

The room wasn’t dark, so Millie couldn’t sleep, even with her back away from the window. She put the blankets back over her head and let out a sigh.

She didn’t want Mark to be hurt. She didn’t want him to be sad, but Damien was her father, Deana was her mother and everything moved slower than slow. Like waiting for one’s birthday party, or having to eat all of your vegetables before dessert.

Dr. Hershey told her that the Whispering Man spoke to him as well, but that really was of no help, because Deana also knew the Whispering Man and she was the one Millie trusted implicitly. She yawned, and clutched her dollies and let herself think about what it would be like if she lived with Damien and Deana. That made her happy and she was just beginning to fall asleep when…

_I am quite proud of you Miss Millicent Mary Thorn. Are you ready for your next set of tasks my beloved?_

“y-yes…” Millie mumbled into her pillow, her mouth forming a smile, “w--what do I need to d--o n-next?”


	6. Doing What is Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien does what is best for his niece.

**Chapter 6**

**Doing What is Best**

**January 11, 2000 (Tuesday)**

**  
** **Geneva, IL High School**

Mark Thorn sat in the empty classroom not being able to concentrate on preparing a test on Homer’s _Odyssey. Damn It_. The thought of Millie’s suitcase already packed and by the front door for her weekend with ‘daddy’ Damien was tearing him up inside.

Mark was glad that Neil had yesterday off from the school and he had avoided him like the plague today, choosing to eat, or rather pick at, his lunch in his car rather than in the gossip filled teacher’s lounge or his office.

Weekends with Damien. Fuck. You don’t go back into your house when it is engulfed in flames and you don’t ‘give in’ or accept the behavior that the psychiatrist himself said was transference. Everything should be done in the most gentle way possible to get Millie to realize who her father was, not who she _wanted_ him to be.

The bell rang and Mark jumped.  Thankfully, it was the bell that signaled the end of the school day.  He knew he had to keep it together or he’d be fired, not to mention being a headline in the media because his last name was Thorn and then that would mean Damien’s name would also be in the press and he was certain that Millie would be taken away from him outright. He pictured a future headline: _Mark Thorn loses custody of Daughter Millie. Court Deems him Unfit. See Page 3._

He wasn't paying attention as he threw his stack of unfinished paperwork in his briefcase.

“Hello, Mark.”

He looked up. Fuck. The was the idiot that he had been avoiding all day. “Neil. Listen, I’m in no mood for you or your small talk. Just so you know, I’m going to look for another therapist. You’re just one of the many trying to impress Damien Thorn. You’re not doing what’s best for Millie, you’re doing what is best for Damien.”  

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, Mark.  I do happen to care what happens to  _your_ daughter.  I urge you to come to the next session and we’ll talk it over as a group _with_ your cousin….and then if you decide you want another doctor, I will certainly make a referral for your family.”

“Fine.” He was in no mood. “Why did you come by anyway?”

“To see how you are holding up. I realize this isn't easy for you.”

“How am I holding up?” Mark wished he never had the idea to talk to Neil about any of this.  “Millicent has her suitcase by the door and it has been packed ever since you recommended that she spend weekends with Damien. I get called by my first name and she has no desire to really speak to me at all, except to ask me when she will get to see “her daddy”...so how am _I_ holding up? Really? You have quite a lot of nerve asking me that. Fuck you, Doctor.”

It was Neil’s purpose to keep Millie on the track to live with Satan’s son permanently while slowly edging Mark out of her life. This was the equivalent of beating a dead horse. He was struck by an idea that needed to be tended to immediately.

“I realize it’s nothing personal.  If you ever want to talk outside of therapy, Mark, you know how to reach me. Take care.”

Mark nodded. There was nothing else to say. He knew he would return home to an unresponsive Millie, they’d go through the motions, have dinner, get Millie ready for bed, and then he would prepare his test while he wished that Maureen was by his side. Not a day went by when he didn't miss his wife.

He felt that none of this would even be going on if they were a family instead of the cheated feeling he felt inside that they never even got the chance.

**...666...**

**Kitchen**

Deana knew it wasn't often that Damien came home early from the office, but he had something weighing on him, which her instincts told her had to be about Millie. He advised and the rest of the staff that did not want to be disturbed.

Deana watched Monica transfer the coffee from the automatic maker into the silver coffee pot.

“What are you doing?” Deana asked in her best voice.

“Mr. Thorn wants a pot of coffee and some banana bread brought to him in his study while he works.”

“Then I’ll bring it to him.”

“Yes, Ms. Patterson, but the bread still in the oven, there is fifteen minutes left on the timer.”

**Damien’s Study**

Damien sighed. Fine.  Well, it wasn't really fine if Mark didn't want to talk to him, but there was nothing Damien could do about it. It hurt that Mark was ignoring him, but Damien couldn't and wouldn't, let himself fall apart over it.  He had a business empire to run, and he had to be the voice of reason where Millie was concerned.

He knew Monica was going to bring him some coffee and banana bread but he still needed to pour himself something a little stronger.

Rather than doing business, Damien leafed through a toy catalog that was left on his desk. Should he buy…...nope, bad idea. Not that Damien wouldn't give Millicent the world, but it would have sent the wrong message if he bought her gifts for no reason while all of this was going on.

The intercom buzzed as he put his glass of whisky on the marble coaster.

“Yes, Geoffrey?” With the exception of the coffee and dessert, did he not state that he did not want to be disturbed?

“Mr. Thorn there is a Dr. Neil Hershey here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

“You may send him in.”  

Damien took a hearty drink and then set the glass back on the coaster.

The doctor couldn't believe it. He was inside Thorn Manor. The home of Damien Thorn.

_Praise Satan._

Damien remained standing as Dr. Hershey of the too-firm and too-eager a handshake was ushered into the room.

“Please sit down.” Damien wasn't about to offer this man a drink until he found out what he wanted.

“I’m sorry to bother you in _your home_ Mr. Thorn, but something happened today that I think you should be made aware of.”

“Yes?”

“I was working today at the school and saw your cousin.”

There had better be a whole lot more than Dr. Hershey seeing Mark at the school that they both worked at.

“And?”

“I feel it is my professional duty to tell you that he wants to get another therapist.”

If this was some rookie at Thorn, Damien would have fired them outright.  Did Dr. Neil Hershey really have Millie’s best interests at heart?

**...666...**

**Foyer**

Deana looked at the visitor log with interest.

_Dr. Neil Hershey._

Really? She raised an eyebrow. This was the work of one selfish disciple and yet she couldn't say a word. The doctor who revealed to a five-year-old girl that he also talked to “The Whispering Man”, which was different from when she and Millie talked about HIM because their bond of trust was there. There was no need to put such pressure on her little shoulders.

She walked past Damien’s study and wondered what was going on behind those closed doors. All she knew was that Damien was not going to want the coffee and dessert he requested until he was gone. Now she had to go in the kitchen and talk to her most favorite person.

“Not too much long now, Ms. Patterson.”

“When it's done, keep the oven on warm, Monica. Mr. Thorn has a guest.”

_A guest -- fucking moron for coming to Thorn Manor without so much as an invite._

“And you don’t want me to serve….”

“No. It’s not that kind of guest.” She twisted the ring that covered her mark.

Deana knew whatever was going on with the doctor, Damien could and would handle it.

“Alright…” Monica knew better than to press Deana for information. Sometimes it was better to not know what was going on.

**...666...**

**Study**

Damien didn't want to say or do anything that would have a negative impact on Millie.

“Doctor Hershey, in case you are not aware, let me remind you that I am a very busy man and I really don’t have the time nor interest for you to show up at my home, _uninvited_ , regarding a matter that could have been brought in therapy.”

The thought crossed Damien’s mind, what if he showed up when Millie was here and confused her, even more, with his presence?

Doctor Hershey felt the blood drain from his face. What had he done? He unintentionally made Damien Thorn angry.

“I hope that you will accept my sincere apologies that this won’t happen again, Mr. Thorn.”  Dr Hershey half expected for Satan to kill him in his sleep for being disrespectful to his son, regardless of the intent.

He extended his hand and was surprised that Damien shook it in kind.

“It’d better not. You can escort yourself out.”

Damn. Dr. Hershey could feel the sweat forming on his forehead. How was he going to atone for what he had done?

**...666...**

Dr.  Hershey buttoned up his coat and put on his black leather gloves when he felt someone behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’t think so. My name is Deana Patterson and you should know a couple of things.  One, Millie showed me your note and two I am the same -- but you will humor me and show me….”

Then it clicked in the doctor’s brain -- the woman in Millie’s pictures standing next Damien with the crayon yellow hair.  It was her. The Mommy figure in Millicent’s head.

They were in the foyer and in a hurried fashion Dr. Hershey took off his gold watch to reveal the **666** on his wrist.

“And you?”

She gave him a cold smile. “That’s not necessary.  I really don’t think I need to tell you, doctor, that having the mark of the beast is a privilege, not a right, nor does it give you carte blanche to do whatever you wish, this includes coming here without a real reason or an invite from Mr. Thorn. Do I make myself clear?”  

“Yes….” He wasn't going to get tripped up on what she preferred to be called.

“Then be on your way. Have a nice day."

Once more Deana had no use for stupidity and this doctor should have known better than this. What was his angle? She was determined to find out.

The dessert should be ready now. She made her way to the kitchen to get the tray to bring Damien.

**...666...**

**10 minutes later**

**Study**

Deana knocked softly on Damien’s door, she waited for his “come in” before she opened the door.

“Hello, Mr. Thorn. I’m sorry this took a while, the bread took a little longer to bake.”

Damien relaxed.  Deana was a breath of much needed fresh air. There was something about Dr. Hershey. He still couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was not right about him.

“That is not a problem, Deana. Why don’t you take your break and join me for a quick nosh?"

Damien noticed the one silver cup on the tray. “You use that. I’ll have my coffee in my Thorn mug.”

Deana smiled.  “It would be a pleasure.”

**...666...**

**January 14, 2000 (Friday) (4 days after the first therapy session)**

**Millie’s Visit**

**Deana’s Room**

Deana was filled with a deep sense of calm and peace as she brushed out Millie’s hair. Earlier, Millie had asked if she could take a bath, but in Deana’s tub and she had happily agreed, but had done one better.

She had told Millie that when big girls took bubble baths, they had champagne and chocolates to go with it.  She wouldn't give Millie any alcohol, but she made Shirley Temples for her and provided her a few choice chocolates from her private stash of top notch treats.  She had filled up the tub with warm water, and used her most expensive bubble bath and had left Millie alone to enjoy it.  Now, as she sat on the bed, brushing out Millie’s hair...the only thing that would have made Deana happier was if she was Millie’s mother and Damien’s wife.

“Can you make pigtail braids?”

“Sure, honey. Once,” oh how she wanted to say ‘daddy’ herself, “Damien finishes his work, you’ll have dinner and watch your movies.”

“Awesome.”  Millie clapped her hands in excitement.

“It’s kind of chilly tonight, so you might want to wear your robe.” Even though the fireplace would be crackling and roaring some of the rooms in this vast estate could be rather drafty.

“Okay, M - Dea- Mommy...May I call you that in private?”

“Sure. I’d like that.  I bet you are going to enjoy having dinner in your pjs.”

“Yeah and in the kitchen...may Monica eat with us?”

“No, honey. She’s busy with her job. But that was a nice thought.”

“Are _you_ eating with daddy and me?”

Only if Damien made the offer, but she couldn't explain that to the child. “I have a job to do as well, Millie, but thank you for thinking of me.” She kissed the top of her head.

“He likes you….he just doesn't know how much yet.” Millie covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

**...666...**

**Before dinner**

**Study**

Damien smiled as he heard the patter of little feet getting closer while he put down his folder and closed his fountain pen.

“Hi, daddy!”

“Hi, Miss Mary, don’t you look all nice and clean.  I love your braids.”

“Thank you. M- Deana did them.”

Deana stood in the doorway. “It was no problem.”

Millie made her way around the desk so Damien could pick her up and place her on his lap.

“Thank you. You did a fine job.”  

“Your dinner should be ready soon. I’ll let you know when.”

“Alright, Deana.”

When she closed the door Millie spoke.

“She likes you.”

Damien nodded.  Millie’s smile turned into a frown when she saw a postcard with the crystal seahorse paperweight on top.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?”  Damien inquired.

Millie grabbed the overly perfumed postcard without even looking at it and ripped it in half.

“No! No! NO!" she raised her voice.

Was this something ‘The Whispering Man’ told her to do? Damien figured he better tread carefully, he needed to redirect her.

“Okay...we can throw that away,” he took the pieces out of her hand and placed them in the wastebasket, “How about some dinner?” Damien kissed her on the top of her head.

“Sure...but no...daddy…no….”

“All right.  I bet Monica made your favorite dessert.”

“Strawberry tarts….?”

“I believe so.”

Millie started to let the bad feeling pass. “Yummy.”

Damien placed Millie back down so they could both walk to the kitchen hand in hand.

**...666...**

**Living room**

Millie sat on the couch next to Damien who was holding the remote control to the entertainment center.  There was a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn next to her. Even though Damien gave her the option of having movie night in the lavish cinema room, Millie preferred this setting.

“What’s it going to be, Miss Mary?

“Princesses.” She clapped her hands.

“Then a princess movie it shall be.”  

Deana came in carrying a tray with a glass of strawberry soda for Millie and a bottle of mineral water for Damien.  She put the tray down on the coffee table.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Thorn?”

Millie jumped up from her seat.  

“Please...please...Daddy, can Deana watch the movie with us? It’s princesses! She marries the prince!”

“Well, you heard the little lady.  Would you like to join us?”

Millie hoped that her daddy and mommy would hold hands in the popcorn bowl.

“Sure….”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“I have some mineral water with lime in my fridge, Mr. Thorn.”

“We’ll wait, won’t we daddy?”

Damien smiled at his niece while he took a small handful of popcorn, "...But of course."


	7. Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie has even more presents for her real father.

**Mark’s House**  
**Geneva, IL**  
**February 4,  2000 (Friday)**

Mark couldn’t sleep. He rolled over and looked at the clock and let out a sigh; it was four-fifteen in the morning.  He was supposed to be driving to Chicago five hours from now for a weekend long teacher’s conference.  He stretched in his bed and rubbed his eyes. He had a splitting headache and needed an aspirin. His sleep as of late had been four hours a night if he was lucky. He stumbled out of bed, turned on the light, and entered the bathroom.

Mark opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the bottle, and popped a few aspirins in his mouth, washing them down with a glass of water. He wished it was something stronger. He needed a drink and hated himself for it.

Mark was relieved that Damien was keeping his word and would babysit Millie. He didn't want to say no and hurt his daughter, and he and Damien had agreed before all this had happened that if he was going away for work, Damien would take care of Millie.

He knew all of this wasn't Damien’s fault as he splashed some tepid water on his face. Yet, it was easy to be angry at Damien, and hate him because Millie loved him more and called him daddy.  Mark felt horrible for having these feelings.  For all intents and purposes, Damien _was_ _his brother_.

Since he wasn't getting any clarity from Hershey, Mark went over and over the whole situation in his brain, trying to figure out why his daughter was saying such things. Yes, it might have been selfish, but more than anything, Mark just wanted to help Millie.

He wanted her to get _better_. 

Millie wasn't a bad child.  She went to kindergarten, where there were no unsatisfactory reports from her teacher’s.  She was smart, she read at a first grade level and there was a pilot program coming up, and if Mark was interested and most importantly if Millie didn't mind the change, she could start first grade half a term early. He didn't know if he wanted to put that kind of pressure on her, so he had replied with a cautious 'we’ll see'. It also depended on how this personal situation went. He didn't want to start any new patterns with his daughter while this whole _mess_ was going on.

He supposed he was one of those annoying parents that gave into his kids whims but he allowed her to ride her pink giant wheel inside the house. It was her new habit as of late. She said she was taking her dollies for a ride, the sounds of the tick-tock on the floors reminded him of a wooden roller coaster going up the tracks and it gave him a splitting headache, but it kept her quiet while he graded papers and made lesson plans.

When Mark finished drying his face with a yellow terrycloth towel he saw Millie standing in the doorway.  The floor almost came out from under Mark’s feet.  She looked so much like Maureen did at that age.  God, how he missed his wife.

“Silly Milly, why are you up so early? You should still be asleep .”

“I couldn't sleep, Mark. When will daddy be coming over?”

_You know, Mark, the guy who isn't you._

He wanted to correct her and say your Uncle Damien will be picking you up from school, but he didn't want her to be upset, because that would have made him even more distressed.

“He will pick you up after school.”  

“Good.”

Millie looked at him and then turned around and ran back to her room.

_Damn It._

Mark made sure Millie was back in her room. He went downstairs to take a bottle of beer out of the fridge. He needed to have at least one drink and then he would make breakfast for his daughter. Everyday it was a new hurt, like salt being poured on a wound. It hurt him so much that she wanted nothing to do with him. That she preferred Damien to him, that he was now daddy in her mind was more than he could take.

What was happening to his little girl?

**...666...**

**Thorn Manor**

**Deana’s Room**

Deana was afraid to turn the pages of _To Kill a Mockingbird,_ she wanted nothing to happen to this book, her most treasured gift from Damien. It was five in the morning and it was time for her to get up to start her day.

The day would be like most days as of late.  She and Damien would say kind words and be flirtatious with each other, but it never seemed to go anywhere other than the moment that they were in.

Deana’s thoughts were interrupted when her cell phone rang.

It was one thing for the staff to be lacking in their sensibility, but she didn't expect a disciple and semi-friend to be empty in the common sense department. It was Lydia Abbott.

“...I can understand your concern, Lydia. Did Damien phone you?”

“Yes, last night.”

“Then I wouldn't worry about it.  Enjoy your time off. There’s nothing you can do about this situation, it has to play out in the way that it will. Do you think that I personally enjoy keeping all of this from him, but until we hear otherwise, it has to be this way.”

“Deana, I've just grown to love Millicent and I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“We all love her. She’s protected. Nothing is going to happen to Millie.  If you are wondering  about your job and what happens after that’s easily fixable. Enjoy your vacation, Lydia.”

Lydia knew that once everything unfolded she would no longer be working for Mark Thorn. Simple as that.

Deana sighed. The only problems she cared about were those that directly affected Damien and Millie. After she said goodbye, Deana ended the call.

It was time for her shift to start, so Deana closed the book and put it down on her end table and got out of bed to shower and change into her uniform to greet the day.

**...666...**

**Damien’s Room**

**5:30 a.m.**

Damien had never been one to have difficulty falling asleep, but lately, his sleep consisted of tossing and turning and mysterious dreams.  There were no visuals, just the same repetitive carnival music and someone bellowing out for him to look up at them.

_What, if anything, did it have to do with the hanging doll?_

He took a deep breath. Maybe he’d feel better after a hot shower, so he did just that, closing his eyes, letting the hot water pummel his back.  On top of everything else, he had to leave work early today to go get Millie and bring her to Mark’s house so he could watch her for the weekend.  It would be good to be with Millie on her own turf, so to speak, so maybe he could get a handle on this whole thing. It couldn't be fixed overnight, but something had to be done. Although he loved Millie very much, he was not her father, he wondered why the little girl suddenly thought he was.

Damien knew that all of this with Millie was killing Mark.  Damien could hear the frustration in his cousin’s voice when they chatted on the phone, how Mark didn't want to talk about inconsequential stuff like sports scores or if there were any attractive ladies at Thorn like he used to.  Damien wanted answers to all of this and he wanted them now.

The shower seemed to work.  He felt better, and he dried off, and dressed.  As he stood in front of the mirror tying his blue and red striped tie, he pictured the soft, yet firm hands of Deana doing this for him, and wiping the lint away with her hands off his blazer.  He smiled.  There was something about her that he quite fancied, but he didn't want to bed her just yet, he didn't just want a quick fuck in the sack with her, which was why he was taking his time.  But most of his time as of late was spent either at the office or trying to get a handle on this situation with his niece.  He wasn't stupid. He knew who had sent the card, and with all of this going on, he did not have time for Ann and her mysterious woman bullshit.  

There was a knock at his bedroom door.

“Mr. Thorn?”

Damien smiled again and wondered if she were physic.

“Come in, Deana.”

Damien watched in the mirror as she came in, with a clean set of sheets in her arms.  It looked like the dark plum for the next few days.

“Would you mind doing me a favor after you change the sheets, Deana?”

“For you, anything.”

“I bought Millie some new books and I’d like to bring them with me.  I put them on her bed.  Could you put them in her mermaid suitcase so I can take them with me?”

“Of course.”

Damien took the cap off the cheap pharmacy cologne that Millie bought him for at Christmas.  It was so awful smelling, like a cross between the overpowering locker room scents that most teenage boys liked to use because they thought it would get them laid that much quicker by the popular girls, and what was supposed to be that new car leather smell. It still made him smile. However, he’d never wear it to the office, so he put on his normal woodsy cologne, and grabbed his already packed leather weekender bag.

“Have a good weekend, Mr. Thorn. Give Millie a hug from me."

 "I’ll send Millie your love.”

“Please do, Mr. Thorn, and tell her that we all miss her here.”

“Will do.  Have a good weekend, Deana.”

“You as well, Mr. Thorn."

She winked at him and watched as he left his bedroom.  She began breathing again and went back to smoothing out the sheets. Even if it wasn't her job, Deana would have been the one to put Damien’s sheets on his bed and take care of everything to do with the master bedroom.  She looked around.

_One day, Deana, one day._

She smiled and left Damien’s room to pack Millie’s suitcase.

  **...666…**

**After AM Kindergarten**

Damien had driven himself to Millie’s school. It was nice to not always use a chauffeur. It was nice to take the wheel himself, enjoying the feeling of all the power beneath him and under his control.  He had parked in the parents area and stood outside his car, and two minutes later, the bell rang and pandemonium ensued, with screaming kids, of every size, color, and shape, pouring out of the double doors of the school.  However, through the crowd of children, he quickly spotted Millie, who must have seen him, because she came running at him full tilt.

“Daddy!”

Damien felt a lump form in his throat.  He didn't know why he thought she’d yell Uncle Damien at him, but it was the new status quo he supposed.

“Hi, Miss Mary.” He picked her up and gave her a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “How was school?”

“Awesome!”

Damien opened the car door and watched as she climbed into the backseat.  She got herself into her chair, but for his own peace of mind, he buckled her in.  Once she was secure, he got back into the car and began the drive out to her house.  

“Guess what I have for you?”

“What?!”

“Some new books.”

Millie smiled. “Thank you, daddy!”

“So, what made today so awesome?”

“I got picked to be a class helper and pass out school supplies, and I got to pick the book Mrs. Ford read to the class.”

She was beaming and Damien smiled at her. “Well look at you.  You’ll be running the class in no time.”

“I bet I could.”

“I bet you could, too.  I’m very proud of you.  You are just the sort of go getter we’re looking to hire at Thorn.  Are you interested?”

Millie was now engrossed in her Tupperware dish that contained orange, fish-shaped crackers, but she thoughtfully looked up at him.

“Maybe.”

They spent the rest of the drive chitchatting about this and that, but he saw her frown, her head turning frantically, looking out the windows.

“What gives, Miss Mary?”

“Aren't we going home, daddy?”

“Yes.”

“No.  We’re going to Mark’s house.  I want to go _home_.”

And just like that, the weekend was off to a roaring start.

“Maybe later this week, but for now, we’re going to Mark’s house and I don’t want to hear complaints.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.  I promise this week, you can come out to the house, but for now, it’s Mark’s house.”

“Promise?”

Damien crossed his heart.  “I promise.”

They eventually pulled into the driveway and Millicent unbuckled herself from her seat.

“All full up from crackers? Or would you like your a snack before dinner?”

“A snack. May I have grilled cheese, please?" 

“Sure. Grilled cheese it is.”

Damien got into the house and headed into the kitchen and retrieved everything out of the fridge.  He was no five star chef.  Hell, he was no one star chef, if such a thing existed, but he had made enough grilled cheese sandwiches for himself and his...dinner companions whom he hadn't shown the door the morning after thanking them for a wonderful evening.   Once the sandwiches were made, and he made quite a few, his stomach was growling. He put them on plates, added some of the fruit salad he had found in the fridge, got them both drinks and he called Millie to the table.

“They look good, daddy."

“Thank you.  Did you look at the books I brought?”

“Yes.  They’re harder than the ones I have.”

“Yes, but that’s how you get better at doing something.  You push yourself a little.  No pressure, you take your time, but we’ll work through it together and you’ll be the smartest girl in your school in no time.”

“Yay me.”

“Yay you, indeed.”

They finished their snack and without the usual fussing, Millie washed her hands and went up to her room.  Once Damien tucked her in, she was asleep in no time, he closed her door and made his way back downstairs.  In the kitchen, he pulled out his phone, and dialed Mark’s number.

_Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of Mark Thorn please leave your message at the tone and if I like you, I’ll return your call._

“Mark, it’s me….” and then Damien heard a bunch of clicks and pauses.

“Damien, are you still there?”

“Yes...I want you to know I picked Millie up from school, she had her snack, and now she is taking a nap.”

“That’s good. Did Millie still refer to _you_ as daddy’?”

Mark wanted everything to be back-to-normal in the snap of a finger, but life was not like that. Damien didn't want to say the wrong things to him, they were stressed enough with each other as it is.

“Yes, she did. Mark, she is just a little girl…”

“Listen, Damien, I hate to cut this short, but I have to go. I’ll phone you later, bye.”

Running away wasn't going to solve the problems at hand, but Damien tried his best to understand. He brought his briefcase with him, but even he was not in the mood to get any work done.  There was dinner to worry about. What was he going to make?

He looked around in the fridge again.  There were stacks of frozen microwavable kiddie meals. These had to be for days that Mark gave Lydia off, because this would be totally unacceptable for her to be preparing these for his niece on a daily basis.

None of this was going to do.

Damien took the phone out of his pocket again and called the house.

“Good afternoon, you have reached the Thorn residence. This is Monica. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Monica.”

“Hello, Mr. Thorn. What can I do for you?”

“Is Deana there?”

“Yes, if you’ll hold, I’ll get her for you.”

“Thank you.”

Monica had pressed the hold button and Pachelbel's Canon in D Major played in his ear.  He smiled, anticipating her voice.

“Hello, Mr. Thorn?"

"Hello, Deana. I am faced with quite a dilemma here. There is absolutely nothing in this house that I would eat, or would feed to Millie.  If you wouldn't mind, would you go to the market and pick up some items from my usual list. Just tell them to charge my account.”

“Of course.  How is Millie doing?” She kept it simple, she never wanted Damien to think that she was prying into their family’s business.  

“She’s napping right now.  Do you have Mark’s address?”

“Yes.  I’ll call the store before I leave.  It’ll be ready for me to pick up when I get there. Shall I bring some wine from the cellar?”

“Deana Patterson, that's just what I was thinking."

“I figured Mark doesn't have the same selections as you do."

He literally had to bite his tongue as he thought about her in his bed.  “Remind me to give you a raise.”

Deana laughed, “That's not necessary. I’ll call you just before I get there.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll see you soon, Mr. Thorn.”

 _Not soon enough for my liking_. “Very well, Deana.”

He hung up and she hung up from her end. He trusted her not only to get things done on the inside, but now outside of the mansion as well and that filled her with a sense of pride. As far as Deana was now concerned, she couldn't be Mrs. Damien Thorn fast enough, but, she took a deep breath, all in good time.

 

**1 HOUR LATER**

Damien sat in the computer room.  He used it as a makeshift office when he visited.  This way, he didn't have to disturb Mark’s study if he stayed long enough to have to bring work with him.  He was going over the latest Thorn merger and acquisition reports, when Millie cried out. 

“Dadd-y!”

It was rare for Millie to be so upset.  He jumped up from behind the desk, sprinted out to the hall and took the stairs two at a time. When he got to her room, she was sitting up in her bed, crying.

Damien didn’t have to ask what was wrong, he was able to smell it. Millie had peed the bed.

He was grateful that he was out of his suit and was changed into a blue golf collared shirt and jeans. He picked her up in his arms to comfort her.  

“It’s all right, Miss Mary.  Ssh….we’ll get you in a nice bubble bath and you can wear your pretty mermaid nightgown….”

The Whispering Man told her that she needed to surprise Damien with something before supper. Millie wrapped her arms around Damien’s neck tight.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Millie, very much.”

He sat her on the clothes hamper while he turned on the bathwater.

**...666...**

Damien had no sooner put the linens into the washing machine, when his phone rang; it was Deana.  

“Hi.”

“I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sure thing.”

Damien disconnected from the call and put the phone into his pocket.

“Daddy, I want to ride my bike.”

Damien knew Mark let her ride her bike inside, not something he’d let her do, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue and with the incident of her peeing the bed....

“Sure.  You just be careful.”

“Okay.”

Millie watched daddy go downstairs.  She had Ruth with her.  The Whispering Man gave her two tasks to do, in two parts. It was an honor he said. These were presents for Damien, he reminded.

 

**...666...**

 

Deana had been in such a hurry to get done what she was supposed to get accomplished that she hadn't changed into her street clothes and was still in her uniform. Damien nodded to Victor his chauffeur, to stay inside the limousine.  He would help Deana with the two handled paper bags, their hands briefly touching.

“Hello, Mr. Thorn.”

“Hi, Deana. Thank you for getting this done for me on such very short notice.”

“For you, anything.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, I’d invite you in but....”

“It’s okay.  You never have to explain anything, Mr. Thorn.”  Deana turned towards the open back door of the limo to grab the last item, which she put in the brown leather wine carrier with Damien’s monogram on the handle. “It’s all right. I hope that you enjoy the wine that I chose.”  Damien put both bags in his left hand, so he could carry the wine case with his right.

He would have loved nothing more than to be dining with her by the fireplace in the living room, have some wine and pieces of cubed Swiss cheese, but that was not an option today.

“What was your selection?”

“The 1998 Chateau Petrus Pomerol.”

“You have exquisite taste. This wine was a favorite of President Kennedy and the First Lady. I hate to cut this short, and I sincerely mean that, but I have to check on Millie. Thank you, Deana for your help. I’ll be seeing you on Monday.”  He smiled.

She wanted to kiss him in the worst way, but now was not the time.  He looked to die for in his casual outfit.

“I’ll see you, Mr. Thorn.  You just take care of Millie.”

He smiled again as he went back into the house. He put the wine case on the coffee table and was about to make his way into the kitchen when something was projected over his head to Millie announcing,

“Damien, save mommy!”

It was the blonde Ruth doll. Damien was still for a moment as Millie continued peddling down the hall until she the wheel bumped into Mark’s bedroom door and then she would turn the bike around and go down the hall again.

He picked up the doll and looked at it with a familiar curiosity, at that moment he heard the sound of breaking glass in his mind as the carnival music made it from his slumber mind to his conscious state.

_What was all of this? What did it mean? He still didn’t understand the reasons._

_Would he be adding even more fuel to the fire if he told Mark about this latest incident?_

Damien felt his body temperature drop, he couldn’t worry about his feelings, he had to put all of his effort in his niece’s. He put the doll on the bookcase. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“Millie, I’m going to put the groceries away...would you like to help me make dinner?”

She skidded her slippered feet on the floor to stop the bike from going any further.  

“Yes, please, daddy!”

Her mood had lifted considerably, so Damien tried not put too much stock into Millie’s _game_ and why it seemed all so fucking familiar to him yet again.

  **...666...**

Damien watched as Millie dropped her fish crackers into her chicken noodle soup.  She had balked at the first course, but he had told her no burgers unless she ate her soup.

Damien stabbed his fork into his chef salad, and couldn’t even look at his tomato and basil soup. He couldn't stop his mind from replaying the imagery, these mysterious messages from his niece.

_The hanging doll on Christmas Day_

_The “Mommy” he was supposed to save_

_...the declaration that he was her Daddy and Mark was not._

He wasn’t even paying attention when something bounced from shirt into his soup.

“Save the squishy fishy!” Millie exclaimed.

Damien looked at the plastic orange fish that was swimming in his bowl.

“Millicent Mary Thorn, we really need to have a serious talk about you throwing things at others.”

He dabbed the paper napkin on his shirt. Would it have killed Mark to invest in a few sets of cloth napkins?

“Fishy’s dead!”

“Do you want your burger?”

“Sorry, daddy.”

He could empathize with Mark and understand how Millie’s behavior was getting to him, because even though he loved his little niece, he was starting to feel stressed himself.  Once he put Millie in bed, he was going to pour himself a glass of wine from the bottle Deana picked out from his selections. It was breathing on the counter near the microwave.

“It’s okay, Miss Mary.  Just no more throwing things.”

Dinner finished with no more commotion. Once things were tidied in the kitchen, and they watched a little television, Damien brought his niece up to bed.  Before they had sat down to dinner, Millie had helped Damien make her bed, so it would be all ready for her bedtime.  

“Will you read me a story?”

“Of course. What book would you like?” Damien hoped to God that it wasn’t going to be _Petticoats and Bows._ Those fucking dolls were beginning to get on Damien’s last nerve.    

“No book.” She yawned. “I just want you tell me a story.”

Damien didn’t like where this might go. “Okay.  Get under the covers.  Any requests?”

“Tell me about how I was born.” She covered her mouth.

The stuffed elephant Mark had bought her for Christmas was thrown in the corner. Millie preferred to snuggle with her Ruth and Pearl dolls.

For one of the few times in his life, Damien was at a loss for words.  He had no desire to lie to his niece, but a play by play of Maureen losing her life to bring Millicent into the world was no story for a child.

He thought about it.  “I can honestly say your birth made a lot of people very happy and grateful. You were so tiny and absolutely beautiful.”

“Why aren’t you telling the whole story? Mark _was_ my daddy then and the mommy whose tummy I was in -- she is dead.”

The way she said dead, with no emotion over the death of her mother made the hairs stand up on Damien’s neck.

“We were all very sad when your mommy died, but we were all happy that you were born, Millie.”

“The Whispering Man told me to give you your present in two parts? Did you like my gifts?”

_Ah...the mommy he was supposed to save... and the fish._

“Yes, Millie, I love all of your presents because I love you.” He he tucked her in bed and kissed her on the cheek. “Very much.”

“I love you too, daddy.  Dr. Hershey said I could live with you on the weekends? If today is Friday how come I am still here?”  

“Because Mark is at a teacher’s conference and that wouldn’t be very nice to do that behind his back. You do love him, don’t you Millie?”

“I guess, but he’s not my daddy. _You Are._ Why won’t The Whispering Man talk to you so you’ll know?”

Damien sighed. “Does this Whispering Man have a name?”

“No...he’s just The Whispering Man.”

“Does he come to you in your dreams?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes when I’m just waiting to fall asleep he speaks to me then.”

“Why does he want you to give me these presents?”

“I don’t know…”, she yawned, “I lov---” She fell asleep.

“I love you too, Millie.” Damien kissed her on the forehead and covered her with her favorite blankets while he felt an invisible noose go around his neck.   Damien Thorn was certain that he was slowly going insane.  
  
He would stay with Millie for a while until these strange thoughts in his head subsided, then he would go downstairs, have a glass of wine and be alone with these thoughts that did not make any sense to him at all.

**...666...**

**HOTEL ROOM**

Mark tore a piece of paper out of the tablet he was writing in, crumbled it, and missed the wastebasket across the room. He thought he was of no use to himself, and if he was of no use to himself he might as well compose a letter of resignation to Principal Erickson.

Mark was keeping his own therapy notes, but wasn’t up to finding a new therapist for himself, but if he was truthful, therapy was going nowhere.  Maybe...maybe once he got Millie back, after this weekend, he could just take her and leave.  Not tell Damien where they were going.  Never contact Damien ever again.  Once she was out of Damien's sphere of influence, Mark was certain that his daughter would be his again.  But that felt...wrong somehow.  And besides, Damien Thorn could find the proverbial needle in a haystack.  He’d find him and Millie no matter where they went.

What was he going to do?

He finished his third bottle of beer and felt sick to his stomach.  The discomfort of driving the porcelain bus and puking all night was nothing compared to the intense physical and mental anguish that he felt over losing Millie to his cousin for what he felt was over no legitimate reason whatsoever.

He had to put a stop to it.

_But how?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. How Does it Feel to Be One of the Beautiful People?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien has tickets to the symphony.

**March 10, 2000 (Friday)**

**Damien’s bedroom**

The wind that rattled the windows was a sure signal that March was coming in like a lion instead of the preferred lamb.  

It was one of those rare days that Damien did not want to go in to work. There was too much going on with his niece. Damien was giving serious consideration to letting Paul be CEO again, for a temporary period, while he took a break. His relationship with Mark was nearly at the breaking point.  The group therapy had stopped mainly because, the doctor’s uninvited visit aside, Millie didn't like Dr. Hershey. Damien wasn't fond of him either, there was something about him that he just didn't care for. He seemed like one of those jump-starts at Thorn that wanted to share every waking moment with him. Then there was the almost constant feeling of dread that followed him around like a storm cloud.  If he didn't put in a concerted effort to stop it from overtaking him, he’d be jumping at his own shadow.  

He had finished his shower and was ready to get dressed for the day. He needed to feel better, _if only for Millie_.

Damien sat on the bench in his walk-in closet while he put on his shoes.  Thorn didn't do casual Friday’s and Damien wasn't about to start, despite the polite ‘aw, come on’ protests from the lower tier workers.

He picked up a piece of purple construction paper that was at his feet.  It had been put up on the wall with a piece transparent tape that had since lost its stick.  On it, was a drawing of a blooming, nondescript flower with a heart and Millie’s name on the bottom.  Damien smiled and put it on the bench.  He stood up and opened up the miscellaneous drawer that he put store receipts and shoe laces. He took out the tape dispenser and got a piece of tape to put the drawing back up. Millie would be here this afternoon for her weekend visit and he _never_   wanted her to think that he didn't care about her or her art work.

He gave himself a final going over in the mirror, then headed downstairs for breakfast before going to work.

 

**...666…**

**Deana’s Office**

Before she had fallen head over heels in love with Damien she had always loved him as a disciple, just as she always loved his Father. 

Except on the rare occasion Deana really hadn't been one to get lost in daydreams, nor had she ever been the heart-on-sleeve kind of woman, except for where Damien and Millie were concerned. On many mornings, like now, she found herself in a good mood when she was supposed to be working the schedule, or some other such activity. Nor had she ever given much thought to fluff, like the contents of the fortune cookie.  But the message from yesterday’s lunch was stuck in her brain: _Music is the Universal Language._ She let herself have a final thought about Damien fucking her senseless and then falling asleep in his arms after, then continued with the staff schedule.

_Hail Satan._

**...666…**

**Thorn Kitchen**

“What’s this?” Damien inquired, holding up the manila courier envelope in front of Monica that was on the kitchen table.   

“It came for you this morning, Mr. Thorn." 

It was from Paul.  Damien opened the envelope, and inside, he found two tickets for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for tonight. Paul couldn't use the tickets because Damien had sent him to Africa to scope out locations for a special project.   He could take D---- _fuck_. Millie was supposed to be coming over tonight.  Then, he was struck with an idea.

“What about your breakfast?” Monica asked as Damien stood up.

“Keep it warm. I’ll be back.”  He took a sip of coffee before heading to Deana’s quarters.

 

**...666…**

 

Deana was doing up the last button on her uniform when she heard the knock at the door, and knew that the knock belonged to Damien.  She smirked.  

 _Where were you a minute_ _earlier_?  

“ _Entrez vous_ , _s’il vous plait_.”

Damien smiled as he came in, shutting the door behind him.

“ _Bonjour_ to you, Deana. How are you?”

“Excellent, as always, Mr. Thorn. I was just getting ready to do my rounds. What can I do for you?”  

“Two things. One can you pick Millie up after school?”

“Of course. I would be happy to.  And the other?”  

Damien figured by the time Millie ate, took a bath, and went to bed, he and Deana could still go out. The concert wouldn't start until eight o’clock.   Paul’s tickets came at the right time.  Though, while he absolutely needed this time out with the beautiful, intelligent, and fuckable Deana Patterson, this was a big step and went against his rule about being with the staff rule, minus the time when he was sixteen and had a fling with the temporary housekeeper.  But, Deana was different, so he would throw caution to the wind and see what happened.

“I came into a bit of good fortune today and have two tickets to the Chicago Symphony. Would you like to join me this evening?”

Deana Patterson could have done a back flip out of complete and utter joy.  It was everything she could have asked for...to be Damien Thorn’s date for the Chicago Symphony.

Father Satan had finally answered her prayers.  

It was starting to happen.

"Really?" She was afraid she lost the ability to speak. 

"Yes, really. So would you join me?"

"Yes. Mr. Thorn that would be very lovely."

Damien could have pinned her to the wall and kissed her and then some but now was not the time.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off to get ready?"

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“How do you feel about taking my personal credit card and buying something for tonight?" 

This time she let herself smile.  “Time off, Mr. Thorn, and new clothes.  A girl could most definitely get used to this.”

“Get Millie early, I’ll phone the school, make it a girl’s afternoon, haircut, though not too short for Millie, a new outfit or two for her.  I’ll make a reservation for lunch at Mandrine’s.  I know she’ll love that.”

“I think that’s a great idea.  And Millie will have fun.  We both will.”

“I have to go into work, though.  Will you be ready by seven?”

“I shall attempt to perform the impossible and be stunning and presentable enough to be seen out in public at the symphony with Damien Thorn.”

“Deana Genevieve Patterson, you could show up in your uniform and still be the most beautiful woman there.”

She had been prepared to say something flirtatious, but she stood there, barely remembering to close her mouth so she wouldn't look like a wide mouth bass.

Damien smiled.  “I’ll give you the credit card on one condition.”

“Okay.”

“You start calling me by my first name."

“And I agree to take said credit card on one condition.”

“What would that be?"

“You start calling me Dee.”

“Accepted, Dee.”

“Accepted, Damien.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.  I’ll call the school and leave a message at the restaurant.”

“Sounds like a plan...Damien.”

“It most definitely is, Dee.  I’ll see you in a few.”

Deana watched him leave and she could feel herself blush from head to toe.  She felt like the schoolgirl that she had never been when she had been an actual school girl.  A date with Damien Thorn, a new outfit and accessories and time with Millie...though in the midst of her euphoria, she let a wave of severity wash over her.  This could very well be the start of it all...being Damien’s wife and Millie’s mother.  She would be sure pay extra close attention from now for anything Satan might be trying to tell her.  Though, she knew that she would always love Damien even if nothing romantic came of it. One day he was going to find out who he was and she wanted him to know she’d always be on his side, that she would always follow the Antichrist.

However, she let go a giggle, and quickly stifled it, putting her hand over her mouth.  She had to maintain some kind of decorum, but she quickly shimmied out of her uniform and put on her normal clothes, made sure she was presentable and headed downstairs to join Damien in the kitchen.

**...666…**

**HOURS LATER**

**Chanel**

Deana turned to the side, admiring herself in the mirror. _This_  was the the dress. She didn't need confirmation from the woman who was pouring another glass of champagne for her, although it was nice to be on the receiving end of such. 

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you.  I certainly think so.”

Deana took a sip of her drink.  It was only her second glass, she had lunch and a drive home, after all, but she’d sit and bask in the knowledge that she’d be the most beautiful woman there, on the arm of Damien Thorn, the most beautiful man there, to boot.  As she stood there, imagining Damien peeling the dress off of her, Deana caught sight of a woman in the mirror.

She was gorgeous.  Tall, leggy, and raven-haired that was pinned, most likely, at the nape of her neck.  Impeccably dressed in pencil skirt and blouse, hose and four inch heels, with her chin up, and shoulders back. Yes, she was quite attractive. It had been some time since she had bedded a woman, and if the circumstances were different, she was a bit tempted to change that. With the exception of her high school escapades all of her sexual activity after was for the sole purpose of Satan's will and to get closer to Damien. Deana watched the woman approach, and as she did, Deana could see in the mirror, the tiniest of smiles form around the corners of the woman's mouth.  

Deana didn't need to ask what made Mystery Woman so confident, and returned the same expression.

“I’m terribly sorry to have missed you.  I was out at a meeting, and simply could not get away.”

“No rest for the wicked.”

A cat like grin danced over the woman’s mouth.  “None at all, and we know that’s exactly the way we like it.  Marilyn Hamilton, I’m the manager here.  Had I known that _thee_  Deana Patterson was coming in this morning to purchase a dress for a date with Damien Thorn, I would have postponed my meeting.  We all have our parts to play. And you are succeeding at everything beautifully. Just as Satan instructed you to do."

“What was it that Shakespeare said about having greatness thrust upon some of us?”  

“Speaking of thrusting...Damien won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

“I hope so, but in all seriousness...I can’t even put a word to how much of an honor this all is.”  

“Helping the Antichrist come into his own...and you have more than enough intelligence to get the job done right.”

“Here, here.”

She would have clinked glasses with Marilyn had she been drinking.  Deana watched as Millie came running into the changing area, waving something at her. Grateful that the conversation naturally paused. 

“Look! The lady said I could keep this!” It was a pink and purple swirled ribbon scarf.

Millie held it out to show Deana, but she looked up at the blonde woman. She felt something turn inside her.

Deana laughed.  “It’s okay, Millie, you can say it.”

“You know the Whispering Man, too?"

“I sure do.  How are you doing, gorgeous?”

Millie giggled.  She could tell _her_  the truth. "Mommy is going to the symphony tonight with Daddy...doesn't she look pretty?”

“Mommy is stunning, though if you were going to the symphony, little Miss Gorgeous, you would be the prettiest girl there.”

Millie had been given candy in the fancy shop, the scarf, and now the pretty lady was paying her compliments.  When she grew up, she’d shop here all the time.

“Is there anything else that you require, Ms.  Patterson?”

“Please call me Deana, and yes, Cinderella simply cannot can’t go barefoot to the ball.”

“I think we can do that.  Come on gorgeous, let’s go find your mommy some shoes.” Marilyn held out her hand for Millie to take. 

“Okay."

And Deana followed Millie and Marilyn to find the perfect pair of shoes to go with her drop dead beautiful dress.

**...666…**

**LUNCH**

**MANDRINE’S**

Deana put a forkful of the chocolate torte in her mouth and let her eyelids flutter close.  It was perfect.  But so far, it had been a perfect day.  Dress, gloves, shoes, stockings, with garter, necklace, earrings, clutch, mani/pedi, haircut, an exchange of phone numbers with the lovely Marilyn Hamilton, manager of Chanel, and fellow disciple, and now she was finishing up a light lunch with a chocolate torte that she’d seriously want for her last meal, should it ever come to that.

“Today has been a wonderful day, mommy.”

Deana laughed.  “Yes it has, and you look super cute with your new haircut.  Your daddy will just love it.”

“Do _I_ look sophisticated?”

“Very.  Now eat your desert, Millie, so we can get home.  I have to make myself look spectacular for Prince Charming.”

“Yes, mommy. But you are already pretty." 

Deana smiled, watching, as _her daughter_  finished eating her strawberry crepes.

**...666…**

 

**THORN MANOR**

Damien was finishing his glass of whisky just as Victor was pulling into the driveway and he noticed the lack of Deana’s candy apple red car in her usual spot.

Victor had beaten traffic and made it back in less time than it normally took.  He had broken the speed limit along the way, but, Damien didn't care. Surprisingly, there had been no issues with the police.

“Nice job.”  Damien got out of the car and shot his cuffs.

“Aiming to please, Sir.”  He was happy that Deana's wish was finally coming true. 

Damien smiled as he went in through the back kitchen entrance to find Monica at the stove, making Millie’s dinner.

“Hello, Mr. Thorn.” 

“Hello, did…”

Monica knew what he was going to say.

“Mr. Thurston himself personally delivered your tuxedo. I had Patrice lay it out on your bed. And your other deliveries came as well.”

“Thank you.” Damien grabbed a bottle of seltzer water from the fridge before heading upstairs.

**10 MINUTES LATER**

**THORN KITCHEN**

Deana and Millie came back with hoards of shopping bags.

Monica turned around. “Look at you. Your hair looks very pretty, Millie.” Monica thought about it.  “Yours too, Ms. Patterson.”

“Thank you, Monica.”  Deana had no idea where Monica’s positive mood had come from, but she was looking forward to tonight too much to give a fuck.

“Thank you, Monica. What’s for dinner?” Millie had to know.

“Roasted chicken.”

“With mashed potatoes and gravy?”

“Of course - and green beans.”

Millie made a face.

“You need to eat your vegetables.” Deana raised an eyebrow at Millie, who giggled.

“You were a very good girl today, Millicent Mary Thorn.” Deana kissed her on the head.  “I have to get ready.  Monica, make sure when it’s time for Millie’s bath, that she wears a shower cap so her hair doesn't get wet since she already had her hair washed at the salon.”

“Will do.”

“I love you, Millie, be good. We’ll be seeing you before we leave. Here give this back to your daddy." Deana took her wallet out of her purse and handed Millie Damien's credit card.

“I love you too...Deana.”  

Damien’s limo was parked in its usual spot. Deana debated having a chat with Victor and see, if maybe someday, if he wanted to have lunch with her and Marilyn, but she was too excited for tonight. So that could wait. If this was a dream, it was one Deana did not want to wake up from.  With a smile, she carried her shopping and garment bags to her quarters.

**...666…**

 

**BEFORE MILLIE’S DINNER**

Damien found himself where he started his day, back in his walk in closet after his shower. He got as far as putting on his starched white shirt and trying to find the perfect cufflinks. He wanted the golden ‘T’s that were issued for Thorn Industries 50th Anniversary.

“Hi, daddy!”

“Hi, sweetie." He picked her up and kissed her.  “Wow. Look at you. You are beautiful.”

“You should see Mommy’s hair and her dress.” Millie handed Damien the credit card that he let Deana use. 

“I will.”  He was certain she’d be stunning.

“Is it okay for me and Monica to have a sleepover in her room tonight?”

“Sure.  What’s Deana doing?”

“Getting ready like you are. I’m going to read before dinner.”

“What book are you on now?”

“The second one, but some of the big words I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you read in the kitchen and you can get Monica to help you.”

“Okay.  I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too.”

More than anyone would ever know.

**...666…**

**7 p.m.**

 

Monica was elbow deep in dirty dish water when Damien came into the kitchen.

She was never blind to his looks and charm.  Damien Thorn was quite the looker. He had always been one handsome man. 

“I’d say you look handsome, Mr. Thorn, but that would be a vast understatement.”

“Thank you, Monica.”

Damien watched as Millie came running into the kitchen.

“Daddy close your eyes!”

“Done.”

“He’s got his eyes closed, Deana.”

She walked in to find Damien standing in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes closed and she gave serious consideration to having Monica take Millie upstairs and sending the mating signal so he would fuck her right now on the kitchen floor. He looked smoking hot even when he was in his gym clothes.  He was always the single most handsome and beautiful man she had ever seen.

Satan makes _no_   mistakes. 

“Are you ready, daddy?”

“Just say when.”

“When.”

Damien opened his eyes, and the kitchen, and the rest of the world melted away and there was only Deana Patterson.

She had chosen a red, strapless, floor length dress that made her look sophisticated _and_ like the most delicious piece of candy Damien could ever imagine putting in his mouth.  She had matching gloves that went up to her elbow.  She had chosen a thick, gold choker and large gold earrings.  In her left hand, she held a red clutch.

Damien opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again.  For one of the rare times in his life, he was left absolutely speechless by her beauty.

“Daddy approves." Millie clapped.

“Ms. Patterson, you look stunning.” Monica hated to admit it.  But she was. 

“Thank you, Monica.”

Damien crossed the kitchen floor, took Deana’s right hand, picked it up and kissed it.

“I’m struck speechless by your beauty, Ms. Patterson.”

“You’re no slouch yourself, Mr. Thorn.”

Deana was fairly certain that the sexual tension between them was thick enough to be felt around the whole world. 

“I, however, can’t go anywhere without a hug from my best girl.”

Millie threw herself into Damien’s arms, and he lifted her up.

“You be good for Monica.  You listen to her, and don’t keep her up too late.  If she’s being a pain for you, send her back to her own room, and if there’s any problem, I’ll have my phone on vibrate.”

“We’ll be fine.  We’re going to make popcorn, and watch _Cinderella_.”

“We’re going to be princesses.  Wait! Don’t leave yet.”

Millie wiggled out of Damien’s arms and while she took off upstairs, Damien went to the fridge and retrieved a clear box, which he put behind his back.  He then came back to Deana.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman, though the flowers don’t do you justice.”

Deana took the dozen, long stem red roses that Damien had handed to her.

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.” She kissed him on his cheek.  “Will you please put these in some water, Monica?"

“Say cheese!”

Damien turned around just as the flash went off, making him see spots.

“Good thing we have a chauffeur because I think I’m blind.”  Damien blinked.

“Sorry, daddy."

"No worries. Millie now you go to sleep when Monica says so.  Be good.”

“I will, Deana.  Have fun.”

“ _I will_.” She gave Millie a hug and held her tightly to her.  Deana didn't know what she would do if she ever had to be parted from her.

“Be good, and we’ll do breakfast in the morning.”

“Okay, daddy.”

“You two, have fun.” Monica put forth.

“We will.  Shall we?”

Damien offered his arm to her, and Deana took it, and with that, the pair of them headed off on their first official date.

**...666…**

**ORCHESTRA HALL** **  
** **PRIVATE BALCONY BOX**

 

Deana sat in the darkness, eyes closed, allowing the music to envelope her.  It was better than anything she had ever imagined.  She sat back, further settling into her seat, when she felt Damien’s hand slip into hers.   Deana Patterson’s perfect night, and it was even remotely possible, had just gotten much better.

**...666…**

**AFTER**

**“** I suppose I’m not much of a good date…” Damien said on the ride home. 

“What do you mean? I had a very nice time.”

“Dee, normally, I would say to go out afterwards, but I know _you understand_   why I wanted to get back home after the symphony.” They did have the requisite intermission break of petite appetizers and champagne at Orchestra Hall.

Deana noticed, they were still holding hands, from the concert, to the limousine ride home.

“Of course. May I say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You are wonderful with Millie. I know it still is a trying time for you and your family, Damien, but trust me, you are doing the best that you can. It will all work out in the end.”

“Thank you for that.” He held up her hand and kissed it.

Damien gave Victor the raise of his eyebrow signal, that once the car was parked, he could go back to his quarters.

“It’s true.  You are a _very_   _special_ man, Damien.”

“The night is still young, so how about joining me for a glass of wine in the living room?”

“I’d like that very much.”

**..666…**

There was so much more that Deana wanted to say to Damien, but she knew she had to hold back. It wasn't time for Damien Thorn to know his true identity. It wasn't just him knowing so, _he had to accept it_   as well. She cared about her own life as well, she’d be no good use to anyone if she was dead for being stupid. Millie needed a mother and right now...it would have to be baby steps with Damien. Having his friendship also meant the universe to her.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Damien handed her a glass of wine.

“Just that...” she never ever wanted to lie to him, “...having your friendship and trust means a great deal to me.”

“Me as well…” Damien heard a muffled coughing in background.

Deana smiled.  “I think we have an audience.”

“I’ll put her back to bed.  Why don’t you browse through my vinyl collection and put on something soothing. I’ll be right back.”

“What are you _still_ doing up?” Damien found Millie attempting to hide under the stairs.

“How was your date? Did the two of you have fun?”

“It was the best date ever.  Sometimes people need their privacy, Miss Mary. And this includes me."

Damien picked her up and walked to Monica’s bedroom and was surprised to see his cook slumbering in a sleeping bag on the floor. “Did she let you have the bed or did you ask?” Damien inquired.

“She told me I could.”

“Did you say thank you?”

“Yes, I did, daddy.”

“That was very nice of Monica, now be a good girl, and go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“You looked very handsome tonight, daddy.”

“That is the best compliment that I have received all evening, and you look very lovely with your new hair cut."

Millie giggled.  “See you at breakfast, darling.  I love you.”  

She gave him a kiss on each cheek.  She must have heard that at the salon or at Chanel.

“I love you, back.”  

He kissed her on the head and then left to re join Deana downstairs.

**...666…**

Damien held Deana in his arms as they moved around the living room to the sounds of _Debussy_ 's  _Clair De Lune._  They would most definitely have to go dancing at some point.  But, he was putting the cart before the horse when it came to planning future events with Deana.

“Is Millie okay?” Deana inquired.

“Yes. She’s just nosy.”

“She’s a good kid.  How are you, Dee?"

Repressing her true feelings for this man she loved for years was the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life thus far.

“I’m fine, Damien.  I want you to know again that I had a wonderful time with you tonight.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He looked down at her, at her perfect face, her perfect self. Damien could no longer deny the feelings he had for her; he was in love with Deana Patterson, and he wanted her right now more than he wanted anyone else he had ever had before this moment.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.  “Who says it has to be over?”

As they had danced, Deana felt like the floor was going to come out from under her.  Now, as Damien was making it quite clear that he wanted a carnal relationship with her, just as she wanted one with him.

“I’d very much like it _NOT_   to be over.”

Damien kissed her and she slipped her arms around his waist holding him against her.  

He pulled away, a smile on his mouth.  He took her hand and lead her to the stairs.

“Are you sure, Dee? We don’t have to, not tonight, not if you don’t want to.”

“Damien Thorn, if you don’t take me upstairs and fuck me until I can’t see straight, I will immediately tender my resignation.” She joked on the last part. 

“I don’t have to be asked twice.”

He held her hand as they walked up the stairs, ending up at Damien’s door.

“I think I’d like to spend the night making love to you, Dee.”

“I’m in total agreement with that request.” _My Lord._

Damien put his arm around her waist and kissed her.  He’d been here before, the passionate kissing, the mad tearing off of clothes, going at it like rabbits with all the details of the event gone by morning.  But not with Deana.  It would be slow, and good, and deliberate.   _He’d make every part of the act count._

With his mouth on hers, Damien reached behind him, turned the doorknob, and after he pulled Deana into his bedroom with him, he kicked the door shut behind them.


End file.
